Almost Is Never Enough
by Just-Another-Mindless-Writer
Summary: Modern CS AU. Love, Rosie cross over. Emma and Killian met as children in England and grew up together in the foster system. But after nights of firsts, dreams and bad decisions their lives end up flying in different directions. Killian to university in America and Emma into motherhood. Despite staying in touch, the world seems adamant they stay apart. But will their luck change?
1. I'd Like To Say We Gave It A Try

**_This is the modern AU captainswan story that those of you who have read my other CS fics would have heard about. I was watching the film Love, Rosie and realised how beautiful a love story it was and thought to myself, hmm, imagine this as Emma and Hook. So I did, and this was born._**

 ** _For any who haven't seen the film I strongly suggest it, and suggest even more that you read the book! There will be a lot of quotes from the film in this story and the plot is along the lines the same with tweeked adjustments._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

 _I'd like to say we gave it a try._

 _I'd like to blame it all on life."_

 _\- Almost is Never Enough, Ariana Grande_

* * *

Almost was a word that Emma Swan was far too used to in her life. She almost had a family as a baby when the Swan's fostered her - but then they had children of their own. She was almost best friends with the girl she met in the supermarket when she was 12 - but she had turned out to be a liar, they had nothing in common at all. She almost went to university when she was 18 and was ready to move across the ocean from England - but then Neal had happened and everything in her life fell apart. And she almost had the chance to be truly happy when she kissed the love of her life at her eighteenth birthday party - but then life threw her another curve ball and she drank too much and forgot it ever happened. Emma Swan was definitely sick of almost.

Six years. That's how old Emma Swan had been when Killian Jones had entered her life. Just a soft face seven-year-old with a mop of black hair hiding behind his ten-year-old brother, Liam. Not orphans – not like her – Killian and Liam had a father, a fugitive from Dublin who had abandoned the boys in a motel before making his great escape to America, leaving the boys alone since their mother had died nearly five years earlier. Emma – to her knowledge – had no parents, at least none she'd have ever remembered. She'd been left abandoned by the side of a dual carriageway just outside of Bristol and had been living in one of Bristol's foster homes since (Excluding brief periods when people thought she would be a nice addition to her family.).

Now she was a grown woman with a hell of a life. She had friends and more family than she could have ever counted. It was everything the lost little girl could have wished for. But sitting awkwardly in her blue 'best-woman' dress at the wedding of her best friend, her other friend Ruby tapping her empty glass with a spoon to make a ringing sound in her ears, Emma could hardly remember a time when she'd been so miserable.

Killian Jones was getting married. _Her_ Killian, her oldest friend - besides his older brother - was getting married to his teenage girlfriend, Tink, a girl who Emma had had no real problem with while they were teenagers, she was just another in a long line of girls that Killian Jones had slept with, she didn't know him the way Emma did and never would. That was until Emma saw the rock of an engagement stone on her finger. And the icing on this cake? Emma had to make a 'bestwoman' speech infront of the happy couple, their family and all their friends without making a fool of herself.

 _Take a deep breath, Emma, and start at the beginning_. She thought to herself, her hands gripping the cards in front of her. She'd meant to have written this speech weeks ago. She'd had enough notice, but had been procrastinating the task at hand for as long as she could. The idea that this as happening, that it was real, that Killian Jones was really marrying Tatiana Bell was a little too much to handle. But now she was in the green and blue themed wedding, watching with glazed eyes as Killian danced with his new, petite blonde wife and the cards in her hands were more or less empty. A few prompts that were supposed to send her reeling into stories. Stories she didn't want to tell. _Tell them how we first me_. She thought and remembered once more the soft face little boy with the bright, sad eyes. The boy whose hero had left him alone and had no one to look up. The boy who clung to his brother like a lifeline. _Tell them that ever since we shared our dreams._ She could remember nights in the tree house they'd composed near the park, in a small wood where people walked their dogs. Honestly, Liam had done the most of it, planning how to make and even asking permission. Ever noble Liam Jones.

She thought of when Killian had told her the truth about his father, both of them looking at the slowly darkening sky. They knew if they were back at the home soon then their social worker would have a fit, but they didn't care. They talked about running away. Killian wanted to see the world, to sail the oceans like his father had when he was young and Emma wanted to catch bad guys, to be a her and save the day – to become someone her parents would regret leaving behind. _No. Keep that as our secret_. She thought, smiling at all the memories they shared as children, and then again as teenagers, all of it leading up to this very moment.

"Come on, Emma." Ruby urged, tapping her glass again only louder. Emma had been so wrapped up inside her little blanket of nostalgia she'd not even noticed. _Tell then that this is – that this has to be –_

"Everybody!" Emma called, smoothing her silky blue dress down as she stood, tapping her own champagne glass now. It looked like the ocean, she thought, the almost mesh-like fabric floating weightlessly like the waves of the sea Killian so loved, blues and greens flowing together like the waters he was yet to sail. _– One of the happiest days of my life._ "Please." She called again, biting back her nerves and managing to sound far more irritated than she was. Frankly if people ignored her this would go a hell of a lot smoother. If she had to ask once more she could sit down and play it all off, pretend she didn't have a speech and never had. Problem solved. No humiliation. No heartbreak. No disappointment. She could leave this city – and country – and go back to England where the rest of her 'family' were waiting. David Nolan and his wife, those who had taken in the terrified eighteen-year-old as she left the system, ready to start her entire life. They were like the parent she always dreamt of, only less than a decade older than her.

As luck would have it, everyone began to move to their seats, looking up at the tall blonde woman expectantly. "For those I haven't had the chance to say hi to properly, I'm Emma." She said with a small, awkward wave. She could see Killian now, sat with his new wife beaming up at his best friend like proud brother, admiration in his blue eyes. It hurt, she couldn't deny that, but he was happy, and that mean that even if she had to sit through watching the man she loved kiss his wife on the cheek, or Tink's beautiful, cherubic face lighting up when he whispered in her ear, so be it. "And this has got to be one of the happiest days of my life."


	2. Maybe We Just Weren't Right

**So right now the story is very much sticking to the Love, Rosie storyline because obviously Emma and Killian weren't the same as they were at 18 than they are at 28 in OUAT so I'm trying to show them as teenagers right now and as the story progresses they'll fall back into their cannon characters, if that makes sense. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 _"I believe if I knew where I was going_

 _I'd lose my way."_

 _\- Christina Perri_

* * *

Emma's 18th Birthday

"Killian, are you sure this is a good idea?" asked, watching as Killian walked ahead of her, his dark hair whipping in the cold, October breeze.

"Come on, Swan." He smiled his toothy, boyish grin. "It's your eighteenth birthday, it's a rite of passage." Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes as he threw his arms wide, gesturing to the bar behind him that his brother owned.

"Just because Liam thought it was a good idea for you two to get wasted for your eighteenth, doesn't mean we have to do the same for mine." Killian smiled back. Killian Jones and Emma Swan had been friends for just over twelve years since he and his brother Liam arrived at Blue Sky Foster Home. Nothing had been the same for either of them since.

Emma had been sure she was going to grow up alone, she didn't tend to get along with the other foster kids and she wasn't afraid of showing her dislike. But there was something different about Killian Jones, the scrawny, soft faced little boy who hid behind his older brother, his dark hair falling over his eyes. He understood her in a way none of the other children in the home seemed to. Something just clicked, he could read her like an open book in a way no one had before and she could read him just as easily. They understood each other.

"You've been spending too much time with Mary-Margret." Killian joked, bashing his shoulder against hers, Emma shoved him in return. Mary-Margret was Emma's only other real friend, and even that wasn't the right word. They'd met during a period of work experience when Emma was in year ten. She'd gone to a primary school on the outskirts of Bristol for a week as a part of the school's careers programme. Mary-Margret was seven years older than Emma and happily married to her husband, David Nolan. She was the epitome of hope and happiness and as soon as she learnt about Emma's life, she did everything in her power to help. The day Emma turned sixteen she should have moved into a half-way house as she made her way out of the system. Mary-Margret wouldn't allow it. Emma had lived with her and her husband in their two bedroom loft ever since. They were like the parents Emma had always dreamed of, albeit a little younger than Emma expected, but no less loving.

"I refute that." Emma said, narrowing her eyes before reluctantly following Killian into the bar. Emma had always envied Killian that he had a brother, a real blood relation that stuck by his side and even became his legal guardian the moment he turned eighteen. Emma had been certain at the time that Killian leaving the foster home would be the end of their friendship and that had been when she was fourteen. Killian had all but laughed in her face when she brought it up. They were for life, and they both knew it.

"Let me buy you one birthday drink." Killian said after their third round of beers, Emma happily showing her new ID to the barmaid whenever it was asked for. It felt liberating to be an adult, to finally to be in control of her own life. Mary-Margret and David didn't make rules and they weren't her parents, but they always looked out for her, and something about being old enough to look after herself was amazing.

"Fine. One drink." Emma agreed, rolling her eyes. Killian smiled at her almost wickedly and she immediately regretted her decision. Killian may only have been a year older than her, and they had gone drinking together before, but never like this. The most they got was a bottle of wine Killian had snuck from Liam's cupboard. Emma knew that whatever Killian had in store for tonight was not going to be good for her liver or he dignity.

An hour later and the two 'adults' were a mess. They'd left Liam's bar after three glasses of what Emma now realised was rum and were now stumbling and laughing their way down the streets of Bristol en route to the only nightclub they could find. Emma had her arm playfully swung around Killian's neck, his wrapped around her waist as they zigzagged over the pavement, Killian dropping the leather jacket she'd bought him for his last birthday multiple times, tripping over in his attempt to pick it up.

The nightclub itself was everything Emma had been expecting. High ceilings hung with brightly flashing lights, bass from the speakers pounding through the light up floor hard enough to make her bones rattle - but the alcohol burning through her was enough to make it enjoyable. Killian had taken her jacket, leaving her in her grey vest and jeans, but with the heat of other bodies and the thick faux smoke blowing out from the machine not far to her left, Emma was grateful.

"I got you another drink!" Killian announced with a broad smile, but Emma could barely hear him. She just watched as he slammed four glasses full with clear liquid down on the sticky table next to her, a lime wedge balanced on each. Despite having no expertise in the way of alcohol, she knew what this was. _Tequila._

The rest of the night fell into a haze. Emma and Killian licked salt from their hands, drank their drinks and bit into lemons until the beat of the music was nothing to Emma but background noise. They didn't join the other teens on the lower level to dance, neither of them knew how to. Instead they stood together at the sides, laughing at what the other said even if they couldn't hear a word.

Before long al of Emma's rational thought had melted away and she had thought climbing onto one of the stools would be a great idea, her legs wobbling as she stood up tall enough to see over everyone's heads. But Killian was there, standing on the step below the stool. Despite being shorter than she was at the moment, his nose was level with her chin. They knocked back a shot of tequila each, Killian reaching up to pass up her slice of lime, but instead of taking it with her hands, Emma slowly took the fruit from between his fingers with her teeth. The intimate moment was enough for Killian to lean towards her, his head tilted up to look at her through the smoke machine mist, the bright lights turning Emma's pale hair to every colour imaginable.

It happened in a breath. Emma leant towards him, her arms resting on his shoulders as he leant up to meet her, their lips bushing for a second as Killian's hands rested on her waist. The kiss was short, barely even there, but they both felt it like their nerves were on fire. They pulled back, letting their foreheads touch, their eyes closed as they breathed each other in.

That was when Emma's legs buckled and she landed unceremoniously on the floor with a slight, inaudible squeal and a thump, leaving Killian standing with the overwhelming taste of sour lime on his lips and the almost nonexistent scent of cinnamon in his nose.

* * *

The banging sound of someone knocking on the door is what roused Emma with a groan the following morning. She was in her bed, which was a good sign, her eyes burning from where Mary-Margret had decided to throw the curtains open. She could hear voices down the stairs and the knocking sound of knuckles on wood was still ringing in her ears despite the visitor having already been allowed inside.

"This was entirely my fault, Mrs. Nolan." She heard a voice say as the door shut.

"I'd love to believe you, Killian, I really would. But I happen to know Emma." Gathering her quilt around her, Emma clambered from the bed, wobbling slightly on her incredibly achy legs. She was positive she was bruised somewhere, but didn't have the care to look.

"Why is everybody shouting?" Emma said her voice croaking as she leant against the wooden beam that held up their ceiling. She could see Killian stood in the living room with Mary-Margret who was dressed as usual in her floral skirt and pink cardigan, her black pixie cut hair pulled and twisted out of the way of her face.

The loft wasn't the biggest living space Emma had been in, but it was by far her favourite. The kitchen and living room were the same space, the kitchen island with the high legged stools their idea of a dining room with one bathroom just across the hall and Mary-Margret and David's room directly beneath Emma's, separated only by a thin, white curtain. Emma's room was the only space at the top of the wooden steps giving an attic-feel to it. It wasn't perfect, her room, with its mismatched wooden furniture and severe lack of sentimental items or trinkets, but it was hers.

Killian shot her a smirk before nodding to Mary-Margret and following Emma back up the steps.

"God, I'm so embarrassed about last night." Emma said, scuffing her feet across the wooden floor, grateful that for some unknown reason she was wearing a pair of fuzzy socks.

"No, you don't have to be."

"God, I behaved do badly!" she exclaimed before falling onto the bed in a large, quilt covered lump.

"Parts of it were good too." Killian reasoned, lounging across the foot of the bed himself. As buried in her duvet as she was, Killian could only just see the top of Emma's head, her mass of bed-head blonde curls spilling out over the top of the blue covers.

"Good?" Emma asked, abashed, sticking her head out slightly. "Are you kidding? It was awful! God, Killian, I feel sick just thinking about it."

"Which part?" Killian asked and was grateful that Emma had hidden her face. At least she couldn't see how he had to swallow past the lump in his throat to speak or how he clenched his jaw waiting for her reply.

"All of it!" Emma exclaimed. Truth be told, she didn't even remember all that much from the night before. There were memories from Liam's bar, of beers and light conversation and them tumbling through the streets, the blare of music in the night club and then she was in hospital. First time out drinking properly and Emma had allowed Killian to get her drunk enough to need her stomach pumped. "It never happened, Killian. Okay? You can't tell anyone." Of course like Emma, Killian really didn't have all that many people to tell.

"Alright." He agreed, his jaw clenched as he fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

"How did we get home from the hospital?" she asked, sitting up slightly and brining her cocoon of a duvet with her.

"Liam picked us up. They needed a parent's name but after I explained our situation they said a guardian would be necessary. Anyway, my brother thinks it's my fault anyway; I'm a terrible influence blah-blah-blah."

"Well you are." Emma said with a slight laugh. "It was your idea."

"Yes, well, now it's extra study time in the library for me. Which isn't so bad since Tatiana just got a part time job there working with her cousin, Belle."

"Tatiana? Do you mean Tink?" Emma asked and Killian nodded. "Oh god, does her cousin have the same name? She'd be Belle Bell." Emma said with a laugh that immediately made her head pound.

"Belle's last name is French, if you must know." Killian said and Emma could feel herself smirking.

"Stalker much?" She asked and Killian pushed her slightly so she fell over in all her blanket cocooned glory.

"For you information," Killian began, raising his eyebrow at Emma in the way that made her stomach knot in a not too pleasant way. "She has been giving me the eye."

"Yeah, you and half of Sixth Form." Emma mocked but Killian was laughing with her. After that they fell into their usual comfortable conversation. They talked about the school dance coming up in just a few weeks and who they would ask. In the end it seemed far easier to go with each other. Emma wouldn't admit how much it cheered her up he joined her in her duvet cocoon like he would when they were children, the two of them munching popcorn and watching silly films for the rest of the day.

* * *

"What a knob." Killian said as Emma sat beside him by on the grass. They were gathered in one of Bristol's many natural parks that wear built as a way of making the city a little less polluted. Honestly Emma saw it as a waste of time. Very few people even came to the park for the nature and in so they all became the meeting place for teenagers to get drunk and have barbeques. Coincidently, that's exactly what she and Killian were doing there.

Neal had been the one to organise it, as usual, texting everyone he could in their year and the one above a time and date and letting the rest happen on its own. Emma had arrived with Killian, Liam having offered to drive them there and back to save them walking in the dark. Being the lazy teens they were, they'd accepted.

"Who?" Emma asked, craning her neck to look amongst the group. Tatiana – Tink – was sat with her friends Blue and Astrid, both of them as petite as she was. Neal sat with Greg Mendel, August Booth and Graham, each of them with a beer in their hands. Emma caught Neal as he winked at her and looked away as quick as she could, sure Killian would catch her blush in an instant.

"Cassidy." He said, nodding towards Neal as he pulled a blade of grass apart in his hands.

"He's not bad to look at though." Emma said quietly, half-hoping Killian hadn't heard her. They were best friends, but sometimes Killian got a bit weird around her when she spoke about other guys. She couldn't blame him; she got funny around him when he talked about all the 'Lasses' he'd taken a fancy to. "And he invited me to the school dance."

"Wha-what did you say?" Killian asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"No, obviously." Emma said, bumping his shoulder. "I'm going with you." Killian smiled at her, the soft smile that she rarely saw since they'd gotten older. It was sweet, and open, like the book she'd been able to read him like all those years ago, his heart laid bare. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by another voice.

"Hey, Killian." Tink said and Emma fought the urge to groan. The petite blonde had obviously broken away from her pack and come to flirt with Killian, something Emma had began noticing she did quite a lot. "I missed you in the library today." She said with a smile and Emma could see Killian reach his hand to scratch behind his ear, a nervous gesture of his. She wanted to bat his hand away, tell him that being nervous wasn't going to help him with Tink, a girl so desirable even Emma had wanted to sleep with her on occasion.

"Y-yeah. I had nothing – I- Er, I had with the busy. I was, yeah." Killian babbled and Emma tried very hard (She really did) not to laugh.

"Don't be a stranger." Tink said before turning away, the wind flapping against her short green skirt revealing what Emma thought to be far too little bum coverage.

"Yeah – Yes, Absolutely not. I will – I'll see you later," For all it was worth Killian did look rather proud of himself.

"Pathetic." Emma said and watched as he turned his blue gaze toward her instead of following Tink.

"I'll have you know, Swan, that she is mind for the taking."

"You're just lucky she didn't trip over your tongue dragging halfway across the ground." Emma burst his bubble, actual hurt flashing over Killian's face before he masked over it.

"Alright then, give me some tips if you're so clever." He said challengingly and Emma knew she was digging herself a hole, but she was far too stubborn to back out, even if it did mean helping Killian seduce a girl she couldn't stand. "How do I go about seducing a woman that's apparently out of my league?"

"Are you serious?" Emma asked, eyebrows rising watching as Killian ran his thumb over his lower lip, his challenging gesture, she already knew.

"Yes. Really." And despite her better judgement, Emma explained. She told him about ignoring her and playing hard to get, while also showing her that he'd seen something else in her that no one else had, that he'd seen her soul – while also ignoring her. Killian looked honestly quite baffled and amused by it all. "You're so fucked up." He said jokingly with a small laugh, the kind that was actually more like a breath released in one quiet puff.

"You have no idea." And then came the question that Emma had been expecting since this conversation began.

"So, she wants me to take her to the dance." Despite not being worded as a question Emma had grown up with Killian and knew easily how to read through the lines.

"Take her." Emma said, surprised how she managed to hide the disappointment in her voice. "If she means that much to you."

"But then who will you go with, Swan?" Killian replied, tilting his head slightly and levelling her with a sincere look. It was hard gaze for Emma to hold, but she managed.

"I got asked by one of the fittest guys in sixth form. I think I'll manage." She said and revelled slightly in seeing her own disappointment mirrored in Killian's eyes.

"So this is actually quite convenient for you?" Killian asked, returning to plucking blades of grass from the ground and tearing them apart.

"Yeah." Emma replied a lot sharper than intended. She wasn't looking at him either.

"Then I'll go ask her." And he did, leaving Emma sat by herself, her crossed arms rested on her knees, her head rested atop of them as she looked out over the pond. Her stubbornness was going to be the death of her one day and she knew it.


	3. Try To Deny It As Much As You Want

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review! (It's good for the creative spark ;))**

* * *

 _"Sometimes love is not enough_

 _and the road gets tough_

 _I don't know why."_

 _-Born to die, Lana Del Rey_

* * *

Emma and Killian didn't talk too much after that. Killian spent most of his time at the library or at Tink's house, always brining back stories about their activities that made Emma want to gag. It wasn't so awful though, with Killian so occupied so much of the time she was able to form an actual relationship with Neal. It was better than before, not just gazing at him out of the corner of her eye and appreciating the view, instead she got to know him. She learnt how his mother had died before her was even ten years old and how his father had abandoned him at fourteen. It was nice to share with someone else, to have them understand her situation without having been there the whole time as Killian and Liam had. She loved them both – she truly did – but there were times when she wanted something else, something fresh and new and exciting, and that was Neal.

Obviously his 'Bad Boy' reputation had not been exaggerated as Emma had imagined, in fact, if anything the stories did nothing to portray just what Neal was prepared to do. It wasn't just shoplifting pop-tarts from the town store as Emma had expected, instead they spent a lot of their time in the bright yellow bug that Neal had stolen from his last town just listening to crappy music and talking. There were other activities of course, but that wasn't something Emma was new to, or something she felt like broadcasting. Killian had a habit of tensing up whenever she mentioned so much as kissing another boy. She'd just put that down under brotherly concern, but the fact that he was now actively ignoring her was getting a little out of hand.

The first time they'd even spoken for longer than five minutes after their day at the park was two months later, when Killian had appeared quite pitifully at the door of the loft, white shirt untucked with the top two buttons undone, his blazer thrown over his shoulder and a black bow tie hanging limply from his hand.

Emma, who hadn't been able to leave her friend when he shot her the bright blue puppy eyes had let him at his cry for help. Shed not even been embarrassed at his presence as she walked around the loft, her blonde hair up in rollers in nothing but her dressing gown, bare feet rubbing against the wooden floor.

"For a moment there I thought you might be in love with me, Swan." Killian said, still struggling in the mirror with his bow tie despite Emma having shown him three times already and even David having attempted to show him. She'd since given up deciding she's try again later when she herself was ready if he was still struggling.

"Killian, you will forever be the boy who wiped bogeys on my favourite – no – on my only party dress. Okay?" she said before returning to fixing her hair, trying very hard to ignore just how well hi suit trouser accentuated certain aspects of his figure that she'd hadn't intended to look at. She really hadn't, and if he'd noticed her wandering eyes he didn't mention it, or even smirk at her the way he always did. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Good. I know boy-girl friendships can be quite complicated sometimes, but you know I'm always here if you need to talk." He finished off what seemed like a rather rehearsed speech, making a point of not looking at her in the mirror when he spoke. Emma, who'd been mocking him from behind her wardrobe door as she fixed her hair, saw this is a great opportunity to test his words.

"What do you think?" she asked, stepping out from behind the door to show off her deep red dress. "Boobs au natural or pushed up?" she asked, demonstrating the different effects. "In or out?" It was entirely worth it to see the baffled expression on his face as he gaped at her like a fish out of water.

"Well – er. I mean, it depends." He said and Emma felt a swell of pride at how flustered he seemed, his eyes blinking more than usual with his fraying nerves. "Is it for dancing of is it – um. Yeah."

"Who knows?" Emma replied, sauntering over to him in her heels and helping to fix his poorly tied tie. With a quite tap on the shoulder she left him standing in her room before making her way down the steps to where David and Mary-Margret were waiting with a camera. When they had kids of their own Emma could only hope they didn't want a photograph of everything that ever happened in its life. As sweet an idea as it was, Emma wasn't there child and it was getting a tad out of hand. There were already multiple school photo's on the mantel and even a couple from birthday's a Christmases. It was getting very hard to Emma not to call them family when they had accepted her so naturally and without question.

The dance itself was only slightly more exciting than Emma had expected. She'd never been one for big flamboyant events and the most she'd ever seen of elegance was David and Mary-Margret's wedding two years prior, and even that was a casual affair. She'd left Killian in Liam's car when Neal had come to meet her, giving him the chance to go off and find Tink before the dance officially began.

The dancing itself was not something Emma was overly comfortable with but she went ahead and did it anyway, however awkwardly. And it wasn't because she could see Tink and Killian dancing across the room. And she didn't run her hands up Neal's chest and into his dusty brown hair because she saw Tink holding Killian's hand. And she in no way decided to take Neal upstairs to a hotel room because she saw Killian lean in and kiss Tink with more passion than she though the boy could possess. That was definitely not what happened.

Everything felt natural with Neal though. He was sweet in his own rugged way and even if the hotel wasn't strictly there's, and even if Neal had swiped the key-card out of the pocket of a passing maid, that didn't make their time there anything less than special. There had even been an 'I love you' or two whispered between the pair buried under the sheets, their hands tangled in the others hair, their breath warm on the others cheeks. And the most terrifying part? Emma was almost positive that she meant it. Almost positive.

The meet up later in the night was a lovely moment, Neal standing beside her in the lobby; dusty brown hair sticking out at all angles, and Emma was sure her hers was twice as bad having fallen down from the delicate up-do of small pearl pins that Mary-Margret had spent hours teaching her how to do. Whatever they looked like, Emma was sure it did nothing short of broadcast what they'd just been doing. Killian was eying Neal with a strange, confined rage. If it wasn't for Tink currently latched onto his arm, her small hand running up and down his dress shite, Emma would have gone as far to say that he was jealous. Brotherly concern, that's all it is.

The car ride was no less fun. Killian drove them in Liam's car back towards Mary-Margret's loft in complete silence. There was nothing said about her and Neal, nothing about the night itself, just the sound of the cars engine as they rattled their way down the almost empty streets. Killian hadn't even put the car radio on to blast Liam's wide variety of classic rock albums though the small space. Emma knew it irritated Killian a bit, he was always more of an acoustic man, having learnt to play the guitar when he was no older than thirteen. Emma loved the aggravated sigh he'd release from the front seat when her and Liam would sing aloud to the songs they understood, Emma sat in middle of the back seats, her arms rested on both of the seats in front of her, seatbelt forgotten and she worked to sing as loudly in Killian's ear as she could. What she wouldn't do for some music like that right now.

"You know what." Killian said as he pulled up outside the loft, killing the engine. Emma had been staring out of the window for the entire drive, watching the houses as they whizzed by, imagining all the family's inside them; mothers and father, brothers and sisters, all happy and together. It was times like this, after a normal teenage experience like a dance that she wondered what could possibly have happened all those years ago to make her parents choose to give her up. "Let's get out of here."

"Granny's should still be open." Emma replied, looking up at him, his soft face lit by nothing but the street lights making his skin glow orange, contrasting with his bluer than blue eyes. Granny's was there hideout most nights when they had trouble sleeping or just didn't want to be alone. It was diner on the same street as the loft, run by and old woman who was known to all as Granny. Emma didn't question it, the woman was nice enough and always put a generous amount of cream and cinnamon atop her cocoa. She had, however, always assumed the only reason Killian ever went in there was to gawk at the scantily clad waitress with the red streaks in her hair.

"I was thinking more Boston, Massachusetts." He said, letting his words hang in the air.

"So, what? You want us to flee the country?" She asked with a slight laugh, but Killian's expression didn't change.

"I'm serious. This place is a dead end; we've been saying it for years." He said, gesturing to the empty streets around them. The cats disappearing into alley ways, houses with blacked out windows since everyone else was asleep. The world could end and this part of Bristol would no doubt stay the same. "And Liam's moving over there to start a business and wants me to try for a scholarship at Harvard."

"You are serious." Emma said, sitting up in the car seat and pulling up her bare feet having abandoned her heels longs ago. She could feel her bare legs as they stuck to the leather, Killian's blazer wrapped around her shoulders after she'd shivered getting into the car.

"It's one of the best medical schools in the world. I want this, to be a doctor." He expressed and Emma nodded empathetically. All his life Killian had said that he'd either want to be a doctor or a sailor and doctors made a bit more money. That and he didn't yet have a boat. "And Boston College just happens to have a really great Creative Writing course. That is if you still want to be an author?" He added on the end. And Emma did, at least she thought she did. She'd always had a strange connection to books, she loved reading them and Mar-Margret had always said that she had a way with words. Now all she had to do was get those words on paper and let the world know about her story. It was something she'd wanted for a long time and she'd assumed she would for a lifetime.

"Let's do it." Emma replied and the smile that broke across Killian's face was enough to warm her heart. There was a lot being said it that smile. Now all Emma had to do was to break the news to Mary-Margret and David.

"But you can't." That started great. Emma had known that they might not be completely open to the idea of her moving abroad but she expected a little more enthusiasm and encouragement from the Hope Queen and her equally optimistic husband. "I mean, who'll do your washing?" Mary-Margret fussed from where she sat on the sofa beside David, Emma having opted for sitting on the coffee table. "You'll never eat. It's ridiculous."

"They have got food in America, Mary-Margret, and I'm guessing washing machines."

"But, it's so far away." Mary-Margret said and the vulnerability in her voice was enough to make Emma second guess herself. There are the people who had been kind enough to take her in and treat her like family and here she was ready to pack up and leave them. "Talk to her David."

David's break room at the office was far cosier than Emma had expected it to be the first time she was inside it. But over the years she'd gotten used to it. If ever she had to leave school ill and David was free to pick her up, this is where he brought her, they'd sit and have coffee until he was off duty and able to take her home. Now she was sat with him, waiting for him to explode about Boston the way Mary-Margret had.

"Did you ever want more, David?" Emma asked, sipping her coffee and trying not to retreat into the extremely comfortable chair she'd perched on.

"Do you know what my mother's favourite phrase was?" he asked in response. Emma, having never met David's mother thought this was an obvious question, but decided to shake her head anyway. "Not for the likes of us. When you told me about your plans that's the first thing that popped into my head. I could hear her voice in the room saying it." Emma had never learnt much about David's family, or Mary-Margret's for that matter. All she knew was Mary-Margrets mother died of illness when she was a child, David's father died to alcoholism when he was a teenager then they lost their others parents rather close to one another. Whatever the circumstances David had grown up, Emma was sure they weren't overly pleasant. Maybe that was why they'd taken such sympathy with Emma. They knew what it felt to lose their family. That or they were a sucker for a lost cause, something Emma had been calling herself for years. "I don't ever want that voice, or any voice for that matter, in your head."

"I just want to be a published writer one day, is that such a crazy thing?" Emma asked. She knew that she could become a writer without leaving the country, but her experiences in England felt so limited, so restricted. She wanted to see the world outside of Bristol, outside of the loft and foster homes. She wanted to spread her wings properly and she wanted to fly. Why would joining Killian in America be such a bad place to start?

"I've been winging it with you ever since Mary-Margret brought you home that first time –" he began but Emma interrupted.

"You're making me sound like a stray dog."

"–Pretending I was the one in charge." He spoke like he'd not even heard her, chuckling slightly at his own words. "You're amazing Emma. There's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it." He said and the soft, paternal way he often did. It was almost strange, thinking of David as a parent, he wasn't that much older than she was, and yet, she let him comfort her this way, to hold her shoulders when he spoke and kiss her forehead.

"But if I go to Boston then Mary-Margret will never speak to me again." Emma reasoned, but David just smiled at her, his blue eyes so soft and caring it made her wish he was her father.

"Well, if you don't go, I won't." He said, picking his jacket back up from where he'd throw it and shrugging it back on.

"Um, David." David's boss said as he entered the room, clearly looking for David. He was an older man, maybe only a couple of years older than David was himself, but he held himself with at more authority than Emma thought necessary. Looking at David he tapped his watch with his forefinger before turning and leaving the break room. David looked ready to punch the poor guy.

"But do me a favour." He said as Emma picked up her own coat, a red leather jacket that Killian had bought for her for her sixteenth as thank you for his own black one. "Choose to be a police officer and then come back and take that pricks job." He said and Emma laughed, letting him give her one quick kiss on the forehead before she left the police station and caught the first bus back to the loft, ready to tell Killian all about the good news.

Almost a month passed by in what Emma had grown to call her normal circumstances. She would wake up in the loft to the sounds of David and Mary-Margret making breakfast together downstairs, Mary-Margret singing along to the radio while David swayed gentle as he stood by the cooker. It was almost comical, like a family from a television show – Emma had never seen two people so in love. She'd eat whatever food was put in front of her, be it pancakes and syrup or a traditional English breakfast and then she'd wait downstairs for Killian to pick her up in his brother's car and take them to school and then back home again unless she was spending time with Neal or if Killian was with Tink.

When Emma arrived back at the loft that day, however, she came in to see David and Mary-Margret staring at an envelope on the kitchen island.

"You look at that thing any harder you're going to burn a hold through it." Emma said, pulling her key from the lock and dropping it in the small metal bowl Mary-Margret had placed by the front door. Mary-Margret didn't say anything, just picked up the envelope delicately like it was going to bite her.

"It's for you." She said, holding out the thin, white envelope. A little thrown off by their worried face, Emma handled the letter with care before prying it open.

"Dear Miss Swan, congratulation we are pleased to offer you a place a Boston University!" Emma called, her face broken into the widest grin she could manage. "Oh my god. I got in!" she called before she was enveloped by hugs from Mary-Margret and David, both of them congratulating and talking about a celebratory party at Granny's because, well, why not. "I've got to go and tell Killian!" she announced, breaking away before dashing out of the door and down the stairs to the flats below.

Emma never really understood why she and Killian had to drive everywhere when they actually only lived a couple of streets apart, a route easily fixed by the alleyway shortcuts they had both found. Running as fast as she was Emma had reached Liam and Killian's house in barely five minutes.

"Emma." Liam beamed when he opened the door. It still struck Emma how similar the two of them looked with their face shapes and bright blue eyes. The only real difference was how Liam's hair more of a chocolate brown where Killian's was black, and Liam was built much broader the Killian. "Here to see my little brother I imagine."

"Yes, is he in?" Emma was bouncing slightly on her toes, unable to hide her excitement for much longer.

"Oh, he's upstairs." Liam said and Emma was ready to rush through the door, but was stopped by Liam's hand reaching out to stop her. "You may want to give him a minute; he's a little tied up."

"Of course." Emma said, not wanting to press the issue.

"Tea?"

Five minutes later and Emma was sat in at the bar with Liam, a cup of tea in each of their hands. Liam owned both the bar and the flat above it meaning that he lived where he worked, something Emma was sure would drive her mad. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask whether Liam was excited about moving to America, but was stopped by a very high pitched sound that would make Mary-Margret blush.

"Is that –"

"Tatiana." Liam finished for her, gulping down a large mouthful of tea and looking just about as horrified as she felt.

"So when you said 'tied up', you actually meant..." Liam just nodded in response, grimacing slightly and Emma couldn't stop the nauseating feeling in her stomach. They sat in an awkward silence for a few more second but when Emma heard Tink crying out Killian's name in such an obscene manner it was enough to send her overboard. "I think I'm going to be sick." She said before pushing up from the bar and heading for the door, managing to throw up in a bush on the way out.

"You alright, Em?" She heard Liam say, a comforting hand rubbing her back as she hurled and spat into his shrubbery.

"Fine. I'm fine." She replied rather unconvincingly, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I think I'll come back later." Liam nodded his understanding giving her a pat on the shoulder before she made her way back down the path. She was halfway home, walking the long route far slower than necessary when her phone chimed. She'd half expected it to be Killian, apologising like he always did, but it wasn't. In fact, it was Neal, texting her something about expensive watches locked in a locker at the train station and a wanted poster in the local supermarket.

* * *

 **We obviously all know where this is going, and I think personally that the song inspiration works for it, but feel free to tell me if you think otherwise! Review!**


	4. There'd Be No Such Thing As Goodbye

**So I didn't plan to post this until Wednesday, but it's my birthday in two days and I'm feeling generous!**

 **Please review and consider it a birthday present ;)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _If I could, then I would,_

 _I'd go wherever you will go."_

 _\- The Calling, Wherever You Will Go_

* * *

Arrested. At eighteen. That was a fine way to get a head start in, well, any career and in life. Emma was just lucky that David and Mary-Margret had been there for her. It would still take weeks before she paid off the bail money she now owed them, but things would have been far worse if they hadn't been there. Eleven-months worse to be exact.

The car journey from the station to the loft was in silence, not even the radio was playing. Emma could feel the disappointment radiating off of both David and Mary-Margret. She'd tried to explain that it was Neal, that it was him who had stolen the watches and him who was trying to sell them. All she'd done was retrieve them for him and meet at their rendezvous point at the right time. But no one had seen Neal since last night when Emma has given him the duffel bag of watches, not even Emma. As the car rolled down the street, the street lights flashing by in a blur of orange, Emma felt her nausea rising up again.

"David?" Emma asked, feeling the unpleasant churning in her stomach and the slackening of her jaw like she had the day before outside of Liam's bar. "David, could you pull over. I think I'm going to throw up." Emma was out of the car the second it hit the curb, managing to spew into the nearest rubbish bin, grateful that they were open topped and not letter boxed. That would have been quite the show.

"Emma?" Mary-Margret fussed as she followed her out of the car. "Are you alright." Emma could only nod. In fact, now she'd thrown up the meagre contents of her stomach, she felt fine.

"I'm okay, just a bit queasy." She said, but let Mary-Margret fuss anyway, placing her palm on Emma's forehead to feel for temperature. "You two go on home. I'm going to stop by pharmacy." Clearly seeing how hurt she was over Neal's disappearance, they let her go. Promising to have her dinner made up when she got back. Along with a very firm talking to, Emma didn't doubt.

* * *

The pharmacy was nothing like Emma had expected. Yes it had rows of shelves stocked with various medicines, paracetamol and ibuprofen being the regular, but there was also a thumping bass from some very strong speakers pounding through her feet.

"Hello?" Emma asked as she stepped through the surprisingly dim lit room, the distinct smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. There was the obvious sound of smashing glass followed by a string of curse words before the shop assistant appeared at the counter. Emma was surprised to see it was the same skimpily dressed waitress from Granny's with the red streaks in her brown hair. "Are you supposed to smoke in here?" Emma asked, watching as the girl took a gentle drag on her cigarette, looking down at Emma with her very made-up sparkly eyes.

"My family owns the place. If they want me to help out, I'll set the terms." She said with a sickly sweet smile, her lips painted a bright red. It was an intimidating smile, almost wolfish. "What's up?"

"Oh," Emma said, remembering suddenly where she was and why. "Right, I've been feeling sick pretty much every day, maybe you could just give me a pill or something."

"Any diarrhoea?" the girl asked, holding her cigarette between her lips while she held a clipboard of symptoms.

"No."

"Fever?"

"No."

"Stomach cramps?"

"No."

"Well have you missed a period?" She asked on an inhale, her cigarette back in her hands. Emma froze, thinking mathematically in her head if she had before realising the calendar in her mind matched up to the date of the school dance. Neal. Of course, because letting her take the fall for his crimes couldn't possibly be enough.

"Yeah." She said quietly with a nod. The fear that tore inside of her was almost crippling when she saw the girl place the pregnancy test in the bright pink box in front of her. "that can't be –"

"Virgin?"

"No, but I took the morning after pill." Emma knew she sounded frantic but didn't have the will to care, even with the scantily dressed woman in front of her.

"Ninety-percent safe, ten-percents the catch." The woman said but Emma couldn't tear her eyes from the box on the counter. This could not be happening. "There's a loo here if you want to use it." The girl said and Emma numbly remembered following her.

"Fuck. Fuck. fuck." Was all Emma could say as she held the little stick in her hand, the tiny pink cross mapping out the entirety of her life out for her. She couldn't stay here in the dingy toilet at the back of the pharmacy. She needed to go home. Pulling open the door was half surprised to see the cashier – Ruby, she now knew her name was – pacing slightly outside the door, cigarette in her hands. She perked up slightly at the sight of Emma with her wide eyes.

"Bollocks." She said, peering at the test in Emma's hand. Clenching her jaw to keep from crying, Emma grabbed some toilet paper, wrapping the test up before shoving it in her bag.

"I've got to get home." She said, her voice wavering slightly as she made to walk around Ruby.

"I can give you a lift if you want?" Ruby said and Emma could only nod her agreement to the girl before walking out of the shop, her legs already feeling like they were going to buckle. If Emma had thought she was a lost cause before, there was no telling what she should be calling herself now.

* * *

 _Emma: Killian, are you there? Can we meet?_

Emma was back in her room at the loft, Ruby having dropped her off over an hour ago. Emma had said nothing as she entered the loft, ignoring Mary-Margret and David's attempts to talk to her as she half-ran up the wooden steps, the emptiness in her stomach having spread through her entire body until she landed on a heap atop her sheets.

She hadn't cried yet; she didn't want to. If she cried, if she let this get to her properly, allowed for just a minute to humour the situation, it would become real. She'd have to let it all in, not just the pregnancy, but the arrest, Mary-Margret and David's disappointment and then worse of all, Neal's abandonment. He was willing to throw her under the bus just to keep himself out of jail. And to think, Emma had loved him.

She was sat against her headboard now, wrapped in the largest jumper she could find, her laptop sat on the bed in front of her. The conversation with Killian was open, but aside from Emma's most recent message it was empty, nothing but Killian's smiling face in the top right corner. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell him, she wasn't even sure what it was she was going to say. How would this even start, with the arrest? Or the abandonment? Before finally dropping the pregnancy bomb.

The sound of her laptop bleeping broke Emma from her thoughts as she surged forward, scanning the words on the screen.

 _Killian: I'd love to, but Tatiana's parents are taking us for dinner at_ _Harvey Nichols_ _. How posh is that? :-)_

The only word Emma had to describe the feeling inside of her as she read that message was rage. A boiling, frothing rage that she knew wasn't really directed at him, but he seemed to be the only person around for her to talk to. At least that's what she had thought.

 _Emma: REALLY! WELL FUCK TATIANA! FUCK HER POSH PARENTS, FUCK HARVEY nICHOLS – AND FUCK YOU!_

But her fingers hesitated over the enter button. Whatever fire had burned through her having died almost as fast as it had ignited, like burning paper falling on water, fizzling into nothingness before being sucked below the surface, leaving Emma feeling empty once more. Deleting the message, she tried again, her fingers trembling over the keys.

 _Emma: Ok. Enjoy the meal._

She didn't bother waiting for a response, deciding instead to shut her laptop and put it gently back into its space under her bed.

It was then, bathed in the reddish light as the evening sun tried meekly to shine through her curtains in one last ditch effort before it set that Emma allowed herself to cry. She wasn't loud enough for Mary-Margret or David to be alerted, but she was far from silent, her hand cupped over her mouth as she sobbed, her shoulders racked with the weight of it. Everything she'd dreamed, all of her plans and hopes for the future were sifting through her fingers like ash and she could do nothing but watch as her best-friend continued like nothing had changed. He'd date Tink and sleep with Tink, and go for fancy meals with her parents until he got accepted into Harvard, at which point he'll fly away into the horizon, leaving her alone with nothing but wasted years and a baby whose father had run at the first opportunity.

Lifting her fingers to her throat, Emma felt the cool metal of the keychain Neal had stolen from the petrol station when they had first gotten together. She'd become so used to it being at her throat that she couldn't imagine it being anywhere else. But now the symbol was tainted, no longer an item given out of love and happiness, but a memory of the harsh, bitter reality. He had left her, she had loved him – was so sure she had – and he had left her, just like her parents had, just like Liam was going to do and just like Killian would. With her life spanned out in front of her eyes, Emma felt more like the lost little girl that didn't matter more than she ever had before.

* * *

Whatever sleep Emma had been getting over the next week had been restless, nothing but tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling and wishing beyond all hope that she would wake up from this horrible dream and she'd be in America, and a sweet little apartment her and Killian rented, fresh coffee in the pot and the smell of pancakes wafting from the kitchen.

Of course, this wasn't the case (Apart from the pancake smell, but that was Mary-Margret's attempt to comfort Emma for what she still believed was nothing but a teenagers broken heart.). Instead she got couple of hours of dead sleep before her subconscious reminded her what a fuck up she had made of everything.

Blinking in the sunlight, Emma felt just as exhausted as she had for the past few days since finding out the truth. Ruby was still the only person to know and Emma was grateful that despite how much she could talk for England, she had kept Emma's secret, even texting her a couple of times asking if she wanted to hang out together. Emma supposed that making a new friendship with someone as bizarre as Ruby had to be some sort of silver lining in the storm cloud of bullshit her life had become.

Checking her phone, she saw that not only had she been in bed past noon, but also that she had two missed calls and a bunch of texts. Reading them over with her frazzled mind Emma briefly registered Killian's name followed by the word Granny's and the number one. She had to see him, he still needed to know everything that had happened and telling him over text wasn't an option. Emma briefly thought how if she got herself up now she could shower, get dressed and even make herself look human before she left to go and meet him.

As it happened, Emma did none of those things, opting instead to climb into the first pair of jeans she found and an overly large blue shirt that she was certain wasn't even hers, before dragging her hair in what could only be described as a bird's nest of a messy bun, half of her curls still falling out of it as she made her way out of the loft. She didn't say anything to David or Mary-Margret despite their attempts to talk to her, she didn't even wave at Granny as she entered the diner, instead she sat in their booth at the back of the room, enclosed in the corner so Emma could look out of the window at people passing by.

"Sorry I'm late!" Killian announced, sliding unceremoniously into the seat opposite her. She'd have probably jumped f she wasn't so exhausted and distracted with the napkin dispenser. He was beaming at her, his face split into one of the widest grins Emma had seen grace his features, it was the kind of smile that begged attention and wasn't worn as a mask but was there because you just couldn't supress it. Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile like that, with his straight teeth on display. He looked just like he always did, dark jeans and a plaid blue shirt unbuttoned over a grey t-shirt, the chain holding his brother 'lucky' ring still hung around his neck from when their exams had started. "I've got news." He said smiling, if It were even possible – wider than before. Emma tried to return it, she truly did, but she knew even without her super power that the false twitch of her lip looked more like a grimace.

"Yeah, me too." She replied, wiping at her cheek with her cuff. She wasn't sure if she had been crying or not, but her eyes were rimmed red and Killian always freaked out at the first sign of her eyes watering. It pained he to see him so worried, it was one of the many reasons she didn't like to cry in front of him.

"Open it!" he said excitedly, thrusting and envelope stamped more than once in front of her. Shed not even realised he'd brought it with him, but took it with slightly trembling fingers all the same.

"A scholarship to Harvard." She breathed, reading overt eh acceptance letter, seeing Killian's goofy smile in the corner of her eye as he flicked his overly long black hair out of his eyes. "Killian, this is so great. Congratulations." If her voice wavered or betrayed her front at all, Killian didn't seem to notice.

"It's unbelievable! Right?" He was grinning so widely Emma was sure his cheek's must be aching horrible. "Have you heard back form Boston College yet?" He asked and Emma felt her stomach flip, grateful that she'd already emptied the contents of it in the diner's bathroom not ten minutes before he arrive, Ruby protectively keeping watch of the door for her and even going so far as to hold her hair back. Without even turning her hea she knew Ruby would be watching her no like a hawk, completely oblivious to the customers and far too interested in the drama happening in Emma's life. Emma Swan was Ruby Lucas' favourite soap opera and they'd only known each other a week.

"No." Emma lied flatly, not even sure why she was doing so. She'd come here to tell Killian the truth to tell him about the baby – and so far she'd done anything but.

"Well, you'll get in, Swan. Not to worry." And it was the affirmation in his voice that made her want to break, to crumble down into his arms and let him tell her everything was going to be fine even if it was bullshit.

"What about Tink? Have you told her?" Emma asked, taking the conversations off of her as she stirred the spoon in her cocoa for the hundredth time, not having drunk a drop.

"She'll be fine." Killian waved off dismissively before running his hands through his hair. "God, she's got this thing about my hair. She's _literally_ yanks it. And she pulls this really funny face during sex, it's kind of like-" Emma felt the nausea rise and Killian did what she assumed must be Tink's face during sex, a strange opened mouth expression with his bottom jaw jutted out slightly to the left. Any other time Emma would have revelled in the chance to ridicule Tink, but now she was feeling nothing towards the girl, no jealousy and no protective spark towards Killian. She just felt drained.

"Enough, enough." Emma said, waving him off, her face scrunching in distaste at the thought of what Tink's face looked like during sex. All that did was lead to thoughts about what Killian's face might look like and an unwelcome feeling pooled in her stomach, something akin to both jealous and disgust that made her cringe slightly. If this is how pregnancy hormones were going to make her think than she really wasn't looking forward to the next three quarters of the year. "Don't you care what you'll think about you running off like this?" She asked, looking once again at her untouched cocoa, the whipped cream nothing but a melted, mushy layer atop the no longer steaming drink, the cinnamon having melded into fat, unpleasant clumps after she'd stirred it the first time.

"What is it?" he asked and Emma was sure if her head had bolted up any quicker her neck would have snapped.

"What?" She asked, feeling as the colour drained from her already sickly looking face, her red rimmed eyes widening as she tried as hard as she could to seem casual about the questions. Lie detector or not, she could feel the lies building in her mouth already.

"You're defending Tink, Swan." Killian said matter-of-factly, one of his dark eyebrows raised as she studied her face for anything unusual. If Emma was still the open book to him that she had been when they'd met she was screwed. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing." She didn't even hesitate. _Stupid!_ If she had been looking for a moment to tell him everything that had happened, that would have been it. She felt sick thinking about how easily the lie came out of her mouth, she didn't even bother to think of saying anything else. He was just too happy to ruin it for him with her own drama. "Nothings wrong."

"I thought you'd be happier, Love." He enquired, leaning back in their booth and eyeing her sceptically, the way he often did when she'd lied about eating the last doughnut, only for him to find the poorly disposed of wrapper a few seconds later. She could only hope that this wrapper was hidden just that little bit better and he's let his suspicions lie. "We're on our way to Boston!" he announced, leaping forward, grinning encouragingly at her. "Come on." He said, reaching forward and clasping his hands around hers, holding them in the way that just _begged_ her to look up at him, but she knew she wouldn't be able t handle what she'd see there.

"It's great, really." She said, disentangling her hand from his own despite his reluctance to release her. "Well done." Looking up at him she shot him the proudest and most encouraging smile she could muster which even to her felt false and even a tiny bit painful. Whatever had happened to her face he seemed to read it as positive and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Well come on, you're coming too." He urged, knocking his knuckles against hers on the table top. Emma moved hers to sit in her lap. "Liam booked my flight," He continued, clearly not noticing her discomfort, or he was just being polite by not asking. "The two of us fly out in three days which gives us time to settle in and for me to get everything prepared before term starts." Emma was already biting the inside of her cheek, she knew it. If Killian noticed he'd start to pry again, her knew her nervous gestures just as well as she knew his. Like how he scratched his ear when he was nervous and ran his thumb along his bottom lip when he was feeling like a challenge. Emma had lied already, it was too late to go back on that. "You should really go ahead and book your ticket."

"Sure," she said, another lie slipping out before she could help it. But then an idea seemed to form. This didn't have to be a lie, at least not a big one. It just had to be a secret. Emma and Killian may (almost) never lie to one another but they had their fair share of secrets each, some she wished she could share and others she was happy to keep locked away. "I've, well I've got some stuff to sort out first, but I'll be there." She was looking at him, any suspicion in his blue eyes evaporating at her small smile. Clearly whatever she'd just told him she believed, and amazingly, so did she. She would be there, she would handle this _thing_ with the pregnancy and she'd defer her application a year and then she'd join Killian in Boston and their lives would finally begin. She felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest and that she could breathe again.

"Have you told Neal?" Maybe she'd spoken so soon as she crushing weight slammed down again, harder and more merciless than before. She felt her breath hitch and Killian sat up straighter in his seat. There was no point lying about her relationship drama, she was probably just best leaving out the details involving the theft and the arrest – that was one of the secrets she'd rather stayed locked away.

"He, um – well he – " Emma began, trying to find the right words to say, luckily Killian swooped in once more, even the hero and asked straight.

"Emma? Has he _left you_?" he sounded surprised, Emma couldn't imagine why. Her open parents didn't want her; why should Neal be any different.

"Yes." She said, expecting the weight to lift just a little bit, instead it crushed further, reminding her of the small being currently growing inside of her. She fought against the urge to touch her stomach, deciding she didn't want to draw any more of Killian's attention where it wasn't wanted. "He left me about a week ago. No word, not warning, no forwarding address." She said placing her hands back on the table, her hands twirling the ring she'd worn on her finger for years – it had been from and old foster mother, Ingrid, who'd considered adopting her. Turned out she had been a nutcase and had almost gotten Emma killed by a car at twelve years old. She wore the ring now as she wore the swan pendant – as a reminder. Where the pendant was a reminder never to trust someone with her heart again, the ring was a reminder to never get her hopes up again, a lesson that had been coming back to bite her in the arse a lot recently.

"Emma," he sad and Emma forced her eyes shut at the sympathy in his voice. She'd cried enough and she wouldn't do it again, not now. "He's a bloody fool." He said, reaching over the table and clasping her hands once more and this time, Emma let him, gripping back with equal fervour. "Any man would be lucky to call you his." He smiled at her, the smile shared between people who knew each other right down to the core, the supportive and loving kind that told her Killian would never leave her alone for good, that he'd always come back to her. And despite her better judgement, the horrible aching pang settled on her chest and she felt like it was there to stay, so as much as she wanted to believe Killian would never leave her, she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. After all, she'd be seeing him off to the airport in just three days.

* * *

Those three days passed far too quickly. Emma had spent every moment she could with Killian, helping him and Liam pack up their home, trying to fight the urge to cry at the 'FOR SALE' sign hanging over the wall of the pub. Hormones, that's all it was. Emma was better than this, she did not need to cry. _But boy, did she want to._

Instead she smiled encouragingly when their eyes met and joked about how fat the brothers Jones would get living off of America food. They took it all in jest, Liam even throwing her over his shoulder when she made a joke about his chins already beginning to show. Whatever it took, she refused to felt them see how she was crumbling.

"Don't get blown up by terrorists," Emma said slightly frantically as she walked between Killian and Liam at the airport, her legs working hard to keep up with their large, purposeful strides.

"Okay?" Killian said, chuckling slightly.

"Or lose cabin pressure and fall out of the sky."

"Swan –" Killian tried to cut her off, but she was having none of it.

"Or fly into a flock of birds – I mean it, Killian!" she exclaimed when he just chuckled at her.

"Look, Swan," Killian said, holding onto her shoulders as he spoke at her, knowing if he let go she'd start pacing or bobbing up and down anxiously. "I can delay if you need me to. I'm sure Liam is happy to go on ahead and set everything up."

"No," Emma said but she was considering the offer. "No, you're getting on that plane." She said, mentally slapping herself for even thinking that she could hold Killian back from something this important.

"I'm going to miss you, Em's!" Liam announced, swooping down and lifting her into one of his notoriously bone crushing hugs, spinning her slightly. Emma gripped his broad shoulders for support, her fingers digging into the soft material of his blue jumper as she squealed slightly in surprise and a hint of worry. Liam may not know that Emma had a small person currently growing inside of her, but some forewarning before being lifted like a ragdoll would have been appreciated. "We'll all be together again soon." He said as he put her down, his face split into a bright smile. It made Emma ache, not as bad as Killian's had a few days before, but enough the make her want to throw caution to the wind and get on that plane with them. She could always plan what to do with the baby in Boston. She shook the thoughts away as ridiculous. "I'll see you on the other side, brother." He said to Killian before approaching the woman at the desk checking their boarding passes.

"I've got something for you." Killian said excitedly, digging into the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling out something in his hand small enough that Emma couldn't even get a hint to what it was. "Close your eyes." He said with a smile. Emma was always wary when he said that, usually it ended unpleasantly with shaving cream or some other substance in her face. She loved Killian, but that didn't mean she trusted him in this kind of situation.

"Come on, Swan. It's nothing awful, besides we're in public." He said, gesturing to the airport buzzing with people around them. Emma was still dubious. "I'm not going to disappear either, just close your eyes." The thought of him disappearing was enough to make her stomach turn in the most unpleasant of ways, but she closed her eyes regardless, breathing slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. Despite his words of assurance, she couldn't help the gut feeling that she'd open her eyes and she'd be alone. A lost girl alone at the airport. She almost flinched when his hand wrapped around hers, pulling it up in front of her, palm to the ceiling before dropping something cool and surprisingly bulky into it, closing her fingers when he was done.

"What –" She began once he'd released her. Blinking slightly, Emma looked down in to her palm to see a ring. It was rather large, clearly meant for a man's hand and made of sculpted metal, a large red gem set into the metal. The entire thing was one a chain. Emma knew this ring. She'd seen it worn by both of the Jones brothers at some point, the chain always tucked beneath jumpers and t-shirts. Either way, she knew it was valuable in sentiment, the last object that either brothers had from the father who had abandoned them. "Killian, I can't –" She began, thrusting her hand towards him, but he just held her hand once more, closing her fingers over the cool metal.

"No arguments." He said with his character charming smile, the one that always started with a tilt from the left corner of his lips, half expecting a smirk to grace his features, only for a truly breath-taking smile to take it' place. Emma felt as though she'd never really appreciated that smile until this moment when she didn't know how long it would be until she saw it again. "I'll be fine. Besides, it's a loan. You can return it when you fly out." He beamed and Emma visibly swallowed past the lump in throat, clutching the ring tight in her palm.

"If your plane crashes because of this –" She started to say, her voice choking slightly. So instead she surged forward, her arms wrapping around his neck as she dragged him to her in a fierce hug. His arms were around her waist in seconds, one hand clutching the bed of her head as he buried his face in her hair. Emma, in turn, nuzzled slightly against his neck, letting the smell of saltwater and leather fill her nostrils, noting it to memory for the night's she spent with him too far away to just meet at Granny's at God Knows What Hour.

She pulled back slightly, but not far. Killian's hand was still holding the back of her neck, and he didn't seem quite ready to relinquish his hold just yet. Emma let her forehead fall against his, his fingertips trailing from the back of his neck to his cheek, feeling the slightly scratchy stubble that grew there. Killian's breath ghosted across her face, peppermint chewing gum filling her nostrils and her mouth as her lips parted of their own accord. She couldn't help but wonder if their air around them felt this electrified to him or if his breathing was becoming more a challenge. With a stab to the gut, Emma realised what was happening. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to kiss Killian Jones with the hopes that he might kiss her back. She wanted to tell him everything that had happened and everything she was feeing but – he was leaving. He was flying out to America and, for all Emma knew, he wasn't going to come back.

With that last painful thought, she pulled backwards. It took a moment for Killian to react, seemingly just as dazed as she had been as he visibly shook his head, blinking at her a few times as if he couldn't quite see her.

"Keep in touch. Okay?" Emma said like it wasn't negotiable, which in a way it wasn't. She knew that if she phoned Killian that he'd answer in an instant. There was just something about seeing him nod his agreement, a slightly breath less ' _of course'_ falling from his lips that solidified the fact in Emma's mind.

"You couldn't get rid of me is you tried, Swan." He said with a grin, one Emma managed to reciprocate. "I'll see you in two weeks." Because he thought she was going to join him in Boston. She hadn't had the heart to tell him, but he knew the deadline for her acceptance was within that period, and there was no question in his mind that she'd be accepted. Emma hadn't had the heart to tell him that she had already been accepted, before even he had, and that she still wouldn't be joining him.

"Yeah, maybe." She replied quietly, half hoping he wasn't listening. But of course, he was, he seemed to have been hanging off her every word since he'd received his acceptance and booked his flight. Perhaps she wasn't the only one wondering just how long they would be parted.

They were silent for a moment, Emma shuffling awkwardly on her feet as she waited for Killian to reach for his duffel bag and walk away from he, onto his plane and his new life. She hoped if she just looked at the ground that he'd realise she didn't want to see him go and slip off without her through customs and into the check-in lounge.

It was, therefore, a surprise when she felt his hand against her cheek, tilting her head up. She hold her breath, anxious as to what was happening. Was he going to finish what they'd begun not five minutes before? Was he going to kiss her? Did Emma want him to kiss her? The questions were swiftly answered when she felt Killian's lips against her forehead, both of his hands holding her face as he pressed a gentle, but lingering kiss to her forehead. If Emma had wanted to cry before, she definitely did now. Killian finally broke the contact of lips for forehead when he heard her sniffle slightly. Rubbing the pads of his thumb over her cheeks to wipe away tears that hadn't even fallen, he smiled.

"I'll see you soon, Swan." And then he was walking away, duffle-bag in hand, passing his boarding pass to the woman at the counter before making his way past her to where Liam waited. Emma hadn't meant to watch him go, she'd intended to leave as soon as he walked away, save herself the pain of watching Killian start his new life without her, but after his final whispered words, she found she couldn't look away.

She watched as Killian gazed back at her for a second over his shoulder, a soft, almost sad smile gracing his features before he disappeared behind the airports walls, leaving Emma sniffling slightly and alone, the weight of her life's consequences bearing down on her as she held the ring so tight it indented her palm.

* * *

 **So I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **The next one is going to be very Emma pregnancy based.**

 **Review!**


	5. Sooner Or Later We'll Wonder Why

**I have made the decision to try and have this story upadated every Sunday, which is also Once day, so it fits! If I've not updated by Sunday then I definitely will by Wednesday (Unless I get swamped at work or hit by a bus or something like that)**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think!**

* * *

 _"You've held your head up, you've fought the fight._

 _You bear the scars, you've done your time_."

 _\- Dust to Dust, The Civil Wars_

* * *

"And you just let him go? Just like that." Ruby asked, arms piled high with small white boxes of varying pills and medicines. Emma was in the pharmacy again, sitting atop the counter as Ruby restocked the multiple shelves per her Grandmother's request. With Ruby's family demanding her to wrok in seemingly every business they owned, Emma had taken to spending what time with her she could. If that meant watching her work her shift at the pharmacy or having a cocoa while she worked at the diner, so be it.

"If I told him then he'd never have left and his whole life would have been ruined too. I mean, what's the point?" Emma replied, reaching into the pot of lolly sticks on the counter top and pulling one out, bending the light wood between her hands as a means of distraction. It wasn't much, but it helped to be fiddling with something physical to take her mind off of both the guilt of lying to her best friend and the impending doom by way of the foetus currently residing inside of her.

"I don't know, but I'd have forced the bastard to stay." Ruby said as she sashayed past, her long, pale legs extremely noticeable as they peeped out of her short, black skirt, her shimmering vest tucked into the waistband.

"Oh, no, he'd not the dad." Emma said, jumping form the counter and cursing the splints that shot through her shins before following after the brunette. "That's just this other guy who got me arrested." Emma tried her best for nonchalant, but even she heard her voice wavering. Clearly, that wasn't what had peaked Ruby's interest.

"You are turning out to be way more interesting than you look, Miss Swan." Ruby said with her sly, wolfish grin. Emma had grown used to it now, but the hungry look in Ruby's dark eyes was still enough to unnerve her slightly. "Why don't you just get rid of the thing?" Emma sighed, she'd thought about that a lot since Killian left, hell, since she'd seen the little pink cross over two weeks ago, and her answer had never felt more solid than when she said it out loud.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it," she began, remembering the nights she'd lay awake thinking about it, about how all her problems could be solved – at the expense of this innocent life. "But it's still a baby, Ruby, even if it's just cells at the moment. I just don't have the heart to do it. That and Mary-Margret would kill me." Ruby nodded her understanding, having met Mary-Margret servals times in Granny's. Even to strangers the woman bled maternal instinct. "I had it all sussed!" Emma exclaimed, running her hands through her hair, tugging slightly at the roots in frustration. "Move to Boston, study, get a great job, come back, write a novel, get it publish _then_ maybe get married and have kids." Honestly Emma had even considered becoming a foster mother, a nice one though, like Ingrid had been before she seemingly lost her marbles, the kind of foster mother who cared for each of the children, who listened to them and most importantly, understood them.

"Wow. A whole life in bullet-points." Ruby shot her a disbelieving look as she piled boxes inside the glass cabinet behind the counter. Ruby, of course, seemed to figure her life out as she went along. She didn't struggle to get a job and she didn't seem to be in any rush to go and get some higher education. In fact, Emma was sure even Ruby growled slightly at the word 'study'.

"Well, now it's pregnant, full time mother, wave goodbye to career, live off benefits, grow fat, lose hair." Emma was tugging again at her blonde curls, her fingers snagging slightly in the tangled mess. Brushing her hair had been the least of her priorities recently.

"Yeah, might as well just kill yourself now." Ruby joked, her voice feigning sincerity. "I can sort the drugs." Emma almost laughed at that one. "Look, there's loads of people out there who want a kid and can't have one, why not give it away?" Emma felt the nausea rising again. _Because I've been there, Ruby. Because nobody wanted me, either._

"I spent my life in the system," Emma settled for saying, remembering how she'd run away from more foster homes than she could even count. "Look how I turned out." _Pregnant with a criminal record, such a great example_. Emma would be lucky if she ever found work, let alone earned enough to support a child.

"Well, that was different. You were a teenager," Ruby reasoned and Emma did see her point. "Babies get adopted way more, mostly before they're even born." Emma had been fostered as a baby, after all. She'd spent the first three years of her life with the Swan's, and that only failed to work out because they had children of their own, and no one was really working to help Emma, at least she didn't think so. If Emma worked hard enough, she was sure she could find parents – or maybe even just one parent – unable to have a child of their own, someone who truly would need her help. That could be a far better chance in life for this child than she would be.

"I could still go to Boston." Emma realised, her face lifting into a smile she hadn't felt in days – weeks, even. "I could re-apply to college, or get a job, I don't care. Surely Liam would take me in until I got on my feet and everything will be as it should just a few months later. I don't even need to tell Killian; I could just think of an excuse." Now Emma knew she was being unreasonable, but her hope had just decided to spark again and as Mary-Margret always said, 'a happy ending always starts with hope.'

"That's some major denial, Babe." Ruby said, but Emma was feeling far too in the spirit of this idea.

"I don't think it is." Emma said, watching the sceptical quirk of Ruby's perfectly sculpted brow as she watched her. "I can't be a mother; I need to give this baby its best chance. I think this is the way to go." Now she just had to break the news to Mary-Margret and David.

* * *

They took it far better than Emma could have ever hoped. There was not a single ounce of disappointment in their eyes and Emma saw Mary-Margret's face light up at the words pregnant and baby. It was only after the mention of adoption that the conversation began to seem a little tense. David had laid off fast, Emma shooting him one warning glare when he broached the subject and managing to silence him immediately. Mary-Margret was proving to be a little more of an issue, always throwing Emma curveballs when she least expected, pointing out baby furniture in stores and buying adorable baby clothes that her child would doubtfully ever wear.

"Who's that?" Mary-Margret asked one evening from her spot in the kitchen by the stove, the kettle whistling quietly behind her.

"Killian." Emma replied from the sofa, her feet up, phone in hand and bowl of popcorn balanced on her now extremely large stomach. David had put on one of his favourite action films for them all to watch. Emma was trying her hardest to pay attention, but she had been exhausted since the pregnancy had begun. She spent most of her time staring at the ceiling, or counting how many times the lights on the Christmas tree flashed within a minute. Honestly she was using any means to distract herself from the soft thumping inside her stomach as the baby (Who had grown considerably over the last few months) kicked away like it was planning to play for England. For all Emma knew, it might.

"Have you told him?" Mary-Margret asked, the disapproval evident in her voice even as she smiled. Emma rolled her eyes.

"I'm sending him my arrival in Boston. It's all he needs to know." Emma replied bluntly, trying to end the conversation. She succeeded for a breath before she heard Mary-Margret's sigh.

"All this lying will catch up to you, Emma. You know that." Emma could hear David chuckling from his armchair, watching the two women with badly veiled amusement.

"You look like you've swallowed a globe." David said with a laugh, one Emma found herself returning. It as David's ff-han commentary about how large she was getting that managed to keep her sane. "Seriously, you're getting huge."

"David!" Mary-Margret scolded, slapping her husband's arm with the tea-towel she'd been using. "pregnancy is a beautiful, sacred thing." Emma was sniggering already. They had this argument a lot. David would comment about the baby taking up so much room, or eating all the pop-tarts, or being the reason Emma spent seventy-five percent of her time in their bathroom. Mary-Margret would always scold him for it with a swat on the arm or the hands on hip glare.

"Come on, it can't hear me." David reasoned, but offered Emma an apologetic smile none the less.

"Yes it can." Mary-Margret said and Emma groaned. As soon as Emma had mentioned the pregnancy, Mary-Margret had become something of an expert in the subject, purchasing all manner of books from the library ranging from what vitamins to take to stay healthy and a particularly disturbing book of pre-natal yoga that made Emma's entire body cringe. Mary-Margret still seemed convinced that when the time came Emma would change her mind, but Emma refused. She did everything she could not to get attached to the tiny life inside of her, balancing things on her stomach, cursing the aches and pains of pregnancy and doing her best not to interact with the baby. This was becoming more of a challenge with the baby wanting so badly to interact with her that Emma had found herself caressing the bump and whispering soothing words until the baby stilled. The act alone made her heart ache. "And don't call it 'it'"

"It's a boy if you must know." Emma tried to make the comment sound off-handed, even shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth to stifle the croak to her voice, but the look David was giving her almost made her feel ashamed of her choice. It was a hopeless sort of longing, the kind Mary-Margret had no issue in vocalising.

"You found out?" The slightly older woman breathed, her hand to her chest like her heart was hurting. Emma wanted to cringe away in at the hopeful longing in the woman's eyes. She'd never felt ashamed of her choice when she was alone, she could always talk herself into it being the right decision, but with David and Mary-Margret looking at her so pitifully it was getting hard to even understand her reasons anymore.

"I asked at the last scan." Emma said as casually as her voice would allow, still munching at her popcorn like everything was normal and as it should be. "I thought I should tell the social worker so she can start on her plans." Any hope that had been brewing between the couple fizzled almost instantly, Mary-Margret even going so far as to sit down on the arm of David's chair, reaching down to clasp her hand around his.

"A boy, what about names?" Emma knew this was something of a last ditch effort, but Emma knew what Mary-Margret had planned. To name something was to grow attached to it, like a stray dog or a pet rock. If she so much as had the inkling of attachment to this child then she knew that without a shadow of a doubt she'd never let him out of her sight. She'd clutch the tiny bundle to her chest until it was a teenager and even then they'd have to pry her away. No, she wasn't going to name him.

"Oh, no, I'll let the new parents decide." She said and she saw as Mary-Margret sighed, gripping David's hand a little tighter. "It'll be more real that way." She managed to cover the hitch in her voice with another mouthful of popcorn. If Mary-Margret and David knew of the painful internal struggle she was fighting at the thought of letting this child go, they didn't say anything, and neither did she. Emma couldn't be a mother. Mary-Margret on the other hand –

"I always wanted a girl first, _then_ a boy. Leopold, after my father." She said proudly and Emma couldn't help but laugh when David scoffed his obvious disapproval. It was worth it for the abashed look Mary-Margret shot him.

"Leopold?" David asked, still smiling at her like she'd made the best joke he'd heard in a long time. "All the other kids will make fun of him."

"My father was the Mayor!" Mary-Margret retorted, her face growing red as she pursed her lips at her husband. David, who was more than used to Mary-Margret's rare but explosive temper just wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her to sit more on his lap. She didn't object but she hardly looked thrilled by the gesture either.

"That's why no one made fun of him." He beamed, clearly proud of his teasing. Mary-Margret swatted him on the arm, hard enough that he winced, but not hard enough to cause and real injury. She'd grown so used to the couple since living with them that she no longer felt nauseated or even envious of the loving way they treated each other. It was a breath of fresh air to know that even if she didn't have it, there was still love in the world.

"Oh, Emma!" Mary-Margret exclaimed, sitting up out of David's embrace and half leaping across the room so she could kneel besides the sofa Emma was laid out across. "Look!" She said, gesturing to Emma's protruding stomach covered by nothing but her thin, striped and incredibly stretched blue t-shirt. Emma followed Mary-Margret's gaze, her neck craning slightly to see all the fuss, but then she noticed the slight jump in one part of her stomach, too light to be kicking like she'd thought it was. "He's got hiccups. The little things got the hiccups." She gushed, feeling as David came and knelt down beside his wife, his face an equal expression of awe.

Without really thinking, Emma reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her baby bump to reveal the pale skin beneath. She could see it properly then, where her skin jumped as the little boy hiccupped and Emma could feel herself begin to smile as she ran a finger gently over the pulsing skin.

"Whatever," She said, catching herself in the midst of resting a hand over where the baby lay, tugging the shirt back over as briskly as she could. She did her best to ignore the knowing looks David and Mary-Margret shot her as they stood, but even Emma couldn't deny it anymore. She was getting attached to this baby – _her baby_ – and when the time came, she was truly beginning to wonder if she was going to be able to do what had to be done, for the baby's sake, if not hers. But for now that could wait as she returned to the film, grabbing the bowl of popcorn to replace it back in it's spot on her stomach before thinking better of it and letting it sit in the crook of her arm.

* * *

"Baby, can you hear me?" Emma whispered as her bump, her pyjama top pulled up to reveal her bare stomach as she sat up in her bed. Her stomach still thumped every few seconds with the baby's hiccups and Emma was finding it very hard not to fall in love with the feeling it gave her. "Try holding your breath. Like this." She said before taking one deep breath and holding it in. She was amazed by how long she'd managed to keep it in, her lungs burning slightly but then the thumping stopped.

"There you are, Henry." She said with a smile, her hands reaching to cup her stomach before her mind final caught up with her mouth. "That's probably not going to be you name, okay kid?" She righted herself, looking at the bump longingly, but not moving her hands from where they rubbed soothing circles around her stomach. If Mary-Margret was right and the baby could hear her, then Emma wanted to be sure of one thing, even if he'd never remember it in his lifetime to come. She wanted him to know why she'd done this. "I'm not doing this for me, you know." She whispered again, amazed by how nervous she felt talking to a baby that could either hear her or not. A baby she'd never see again after she'd given him up. "I'm doing this for you. I can't be the mother you deserve. I'm not as maternal as Mary-Margret, and I didn't have parents of my own."

She could feel the lump rising in her throat, but she spoke past it. "When they left me, I used to think it was because they wanted to give me my best chance." It wasn't a lie. She'd come up with so many scenarios of who her parents might be and why they could have possibly wanted to leave her alone – on the side of a busy road of all places. "And that's what I'm doing for you, okay?" she said and felt as her lip began to tremble, the soothing circles on her stomach turning into a fairly tight grip as she held on to the baby – _her baby._ "I wish I could be there for you." She choked out, tears beginning to fall feely from her eyes. She'd not cried properly since the night Killian had left, but now with the ever nearing choice she had to make, Emma was beginning to feel the pressure mounting. It was one thing to say she'd give him up while he was still inside her, it was easy to say that she'd just push the little boy out and never think of him again. But Emma was beginning to worry she wouldn't have the strength to let him go.

* * *

"It's coming!" Mary-Margret shrieked as she half ran down the stairs in the loft, her feet tripping as she gripped the banister with an ice-white grip. Emma had decided on a home birth, never having been a fan of hospitals. Somehow she thought that letting the baby go would be easier within the comfort of her own home. "Towels! Hot water! Go!" She called to David who was in as much of a panic as she was, his eyes widening with every shattered scream Emma released.

"Where's the mid-wife?" David asked anxiously, passing the soft, clean towels to Mary-Margret while he half-boiled the kettle. As Mary-Margret disappeared back up the stairs, David heard the knock at the door. He'd ripped it open before he'd even realised that he'd crossed the room.

"Go! Go on!" Ruby said from the other side of the door, her voice mildly intimidating as she shoved the mid-wife, a tall, red haired woman called Zelena into the loft. Zelena seemed efficient enough, smiling at David before following the horrific sounds of Emma's screams up to her bedroom.

"This is really happening." David said, listening to the voices up the stairs, the instructions from the midwife and the comforts from Mary-Margret barely audible beneath Emma's screams.

"'Fraid so." Ruby said, patting him on the shoulder before moving towards the sofa, putting her heeled feet up on the coffee table and quickly making herself at home.

It took most of the night for Emma's screams of pain to finally subside and the sounds of a newborn filling his lungs for the first time to replace them. David hadn't even waited for Mary-Margret to fetch him before he was taking the wooden steps two at a time to Emma's room. The room looked almost transformed, lit by the dull glow of her bedside lamp, spare towels and washing up bowls filled with water littering the floor and surfaces.

Emma herself looked wrecked, sat with her back against her pillows, legs stretched out in front of her and her blonde curls stuck to her face. Despite the exhaustion clearly setting into her body Emma's eyes were wide and awake as she stared at the mid-wife who held a still crying bundle of blue towels in her arms. Mary-Margret was beside Zelena, her face alight with joy and awe as he reached a finger towards the tiny crying baby. David was about the join her before there was another knock at the door.

"That'll be the social worker." David said, and he didn't miss the way Emma flinched, her eyes looking away the baby and staring instead at her bedside lamp.

"Do you want to hold him?" Zelena asked, her voice not wuite as sympathetic as David would have liked as she held the baby a little closer to Emma. But Emma wasn't looking at him, her hands gripping tightly the metals bars that formed the head board of her bed. David could see the pain on her face as she tried not to cry. "Or should I take him straight downstairs." Still Emma said nothing, but Zelena made no move to leave either. David was grateful for that.

"Emma," David said as he moved to stand beside her, untangling her hand from the headboard before kneeling on the floor, his hands wrapped around hers. She looked at him, not hiding the emotions on her face like she often did, leaving them to be read by David. What he saw broke his heart. She was hurting, hurting and longing for the child that was so close to her, the tears falling freely from her red rimmed eyes. He'd never felt more like a father figure to her than he did in that moment, comforting her the best way he knew how. Giving her a choice. "You know it's not too late to change your mind."

She still said nothing, and Zelena took this as her cue to leave, to take the tiny bundle down the stairs for Emma never to see again. Her baby, gone in an instant.

"Wait." Emma said and David felt the spread in his chest at her words. Zelena seemed to understand, moving quickly towards the bed as David jumped out of the way. He moved back to his wife, his arm wrapping around her waist as he watched the tiny baby being placed in Emma's arms. He'd never forget how her face lit up at the contact. "Henry." Emma whispered, her face alight with happiness despite the sweat and tears. "Sweet, little Henry." She cooed and David griped onto his wife tighter. Mary-Margret was sniffling slightly beside him and Even Ruby who'd followed David up the steps seemed to be struck by the image of Emma holding her new born. "I'm going to be a good mummy." Emma whispered to her son, but everyone had heard her. Zelena smiled a little tightly before picking her bag from the floor and turning to head down the stairs, promising to take care of the social worker and paperwork. This, after all, had to happen a lot of the time with new mothers. "I'm going to be your best chance. I promise." And in that moment, Emma heard no lie in her own voice. She was going to be a mother to this little boy and she was going to give him everything she had. She believed it.

* * *

Being a parent was a challenge, Emma had known that from the moment she'd seen the little plus symbol on the pregnancy test. What she didn't realise was just how hard it would be. Henry awoke every night screaming, his tiny lungs far stronger than Emma had anticipated, and then she'd be by his side, lifting him into her arms and rocking him until he settled down, feeding and changing him if necessary.

Her arrangement wasn't ideal. She still lived in her room at the loft, David and Mary-Margret still sleeping beneath her, but now the loft had to accommodate a baby as well. A crib that Mary-Margret had procured from Marco, a carpenter from down the street, was pushed into the corner of Emma's room, replacing the dressing table that had once been there. The kitchen had been over taken by baby necessities – bottles and breast pumps and sterilising fluid for the bottles – and the rest of the small apartment was no better.

Mary-Margret, however, had taken it in all in stride. If Henry began crying and Emma wasn't in the room she was on the case immediately, cuddling the baby as though it was her own. David was just as good, asking to hold Henry whenever Emma looked in dire need of a nap. Emma couldn't help but wonder just how long it would be until they had a baby of their own.

As far as motherhood went, Emma had learned many of the lessons the hard way. She learnt _not to breastfeed in public_ after an incident at the park which resulted in a shocked cyclist falling off his bike and tumbling over a hedge before winding up somewhere in the road. The next was _never to bounce Henry on her knee after feeding_. She'd been so close to acing her job interview, even after having to bring Henry along, up until he spewed the impressive contents of his tiny stomach onto the interviewer and his desk. Emma still hadn't heard back. She'd also been trying very hard _not to cry whenever he cried_ , something that proved quite the challenge with all the post-natal hormones dancing through her body like infuriating little morris dancers. And the final lesson was taught when Emma had been walking innocently down the street with Henry in his push chair before running into one of the people she hoped never to run into.

"Emma?" Tink said and Emma could already feel the dread brewing in the pit of her stomach. _Never assume trouble isn't around the next corner._ She added to her mental list.

"Tink." She replied in greeting having already scouted all her possible escape routes and come up empty.

"So, what? You're a nanny now?" Tink asked, her accent just as clear as the last day Emma had seen her. It was hard to hear the petite blonde's voice without remembering the noises Emma had heard from Killian's bedroom.

"A nanny?" Emma blanched slightly, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Whatever shock that was in Emma's body was clearly still trying to weed it's self out before allowing her to conduct a coherent thought.

"I thought you were going to Boston with Killian?" Tink asked innocently enough, but Emma could still feel her anger at the mention. Yes, she had intended to go, albeit a few months late. But then she'd chosen Henry and that plan had died, her life taking a rather drastic U-turn. But Emma didn't feel like verbalising that, especially not to Tink.

"Oh no," Emma said, peering over Tink's small shoulders for another escape route, but came up blank. She could see Tink's 'pose' at the opposite side for the street, and the last thing Emma wanted was all of them talking to her. "Change of plans. Turns out you can learn to write from anywhere in the world." Emma said with a shrug. Tink was leaning closer to the pram now, looking down at where Henry was lying with his favourite dragon toy from David, his brown eyes – so like Neal's – staring up curiously. Emma was only grateful that he wasn't trying to tug on her hair, something he'd taken a particular fancy to doing with Emma's curls whenever they were lose. With the surprising grip the infant had, Mary-Margret's pixie cut was beginning to look more and more inviting.

"So, who's the dad?" She asked and Emma felt her stomach drop. She'd not even spoken about Neal to Mary-Margret or Ruby since he'd disappeared. It was bad enough that the yellow bug she'd spent so much of her time in over the past year had wound up in her driveway, keys in the ignition with out any note. Clearly Neal had needed to ditch the car and what better way than to gift it someone else. Emma had fought the strong urge to push it into the Bristol Channel and let the water swallow it up. Cars, as it turned out, were expensive, and having one _literally_ dumped on her doorstep was not something Emma could pass up. So, never being one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Emma had excepted the car, letting it be another reminder of what Neal had done. Still, the last thing Emma wanted to do was drag up her pathetic excuse for a love life to Tink, of all people.

"Tink!" Blue called fom over the street, effectively drawing attention away from Emma and her infant son.

"Gotta run!" Tink said with a flick of her blonde hair. "I'm supposed to be working with Belle. Good luck." She said, casting one more glance at Henry where he was still staring up at the blonde with curiosity.

"Kill me." Emma murmured as Tink regrouped with her surprisingly petite friends, each of them carrying their shopping bags on the crook of their arms and taking more animatedly than necessary. Turning the pram back to face the opposite direction, Emma began to make her way home to the loft. She didn't feel in the mood for the outside world after all.

* * *

 **Guess who's back next chapter! That's right, Killian! Woo! Let me know what you think :)**


	6. If I Could Change The World Overnight

**So this chapter is a lot shorter than I'd anticipated, but Killian's back! So that much count for something ;)**

 **A very important point that I feel I should mention. I have nothing against the characters of Neal and Milah, in fact, I like them both ALOT. They are the ones in this story who are going to be the most out of character because of their parallels in the Love, Rosie universe. I'm not hating on anyone's ships, it's just the way the story had panned out.**

 **Review !**

* * *

 _"If you could see me now would you recognize me?_  
 _Would you pat me on the back or would you criticize me?"_

 _\- If You Could See Me Now, The Script_

* * *

Emma's favourite part of living with David and Mary-Margret had to be how present they were in both her and Henry's lives. They always knew when she needed that little break to tidy up or sleep or eat, and they didn't hesitate in taking her infant son off of her hands for a few hours. She'd almost feel guilty about palming her son off on her friends like this, but they welcomed it with open arms. More than once Emma had seen them getting ready to take Henry out without Emma even having to ask. Clearly they were natural born parents. It broke Emma's heart to know they were still struggling to have a child of their own. They'd been trying pretty much since they'd been married, but still no luck. Emma had suggested they talk to a doctor, but Mary-Margret refused, positive that when the time was right they'd have their baby. Emma was far too stressed and exhausted to even initiate and argument with the Queen of hope, and so she let the issue slide, watching as David and Mary-Margret pushed Henry's pram out the front of the building, no doubt making their way to a Granny's for their Saturday brunch.

And so Emma spent the day tidying the loft as best she could, putting a large load of baby clothes into the washing machine and hoovering the entire apartment to her favourite radio station while she waited for them to finish. She even allowed herself a little dance around the vacuum cleaner, stopping once she realised just how close she was getting to Freddie Mercury's level of dancing. Then once that was done she carried he basket of wet clothes to the laundry room down the stairs and put them all in the dryer, even managing the slip in a nap while she waited for them to finish. Stressed or not, Emma was truly starting to believe she was getting the hang of this mothering thing.

Emma was amazed that David and Mary-Margret still hadn't returned when she began folding Henry's clothes on the sofa, grateful this was her final chore. She'd cleaned the bathroom, made up Henry's cot, changed her own bed and even sterilised each of Henry's bottles. Then the day was her own until Mary-Margret and David returned. She was shocked by how little she minded the routine of her life. Yes, she was definitely getting the hang of this.

When she heard the knock at the door she clambered from her spot kneeling on the floor and headed for the door, half expecting (And hoping) for Ruby to be standing on the opposite side of the door with a hot-chocolate and a bear claw. With that thought in mind she pulled the door open with a little more enthusiasm, her heart dropping and smile slipping as soon as she saw who was on the other side.

"Killian." She breathed, looking at the friend she hadn't seen for months after their goodbye at the airport like she could hardly recognise him. "Wh-What are you doing here." She fumbled for the words, pulling the door shut as much as possible to block out the 'baby-fied' apartment behind her. He didn't seem to notice the gesture, and if he did then he didn't mention it. Instead her looked down on her, seeming much taller than the day he left, a soft smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Liam and I are back for the weekend." He said and Emma couldn't read the expression in his blue eyes, something that unnerved her more than she cared to admit. "Thought I'd surprise you."

"Well, I'm surprised." Emma joke slightly, more for her own sake since Killian didn't laugh along with her and her voice wavered. "Let'd go grab a coffee." She said, alreay grasping blindly for her coat beside the doorway.

"No, I've had enough of take-out coffee." Killian said and Emma deflated. This was happening, and it was happening now. She was going to have to tell him, she just wasn't sure how. "Why don't you put the kettle on." Emma nodded slightly, swallowing past the lump in her throat before heading back into the loft, not even bother to open the door as she went. "So, what have you been up to?" Killian asked, just stepping into the apartment and Emma was grateful that she'd been able to cover Henry's clothes with one of Mary-Margret's throws before hiding Henry's play pen behind the large armchair.

"Oh, this and that, you know." She said, looking over her shoulder and seeing how he surveyed the area like he was looking for something. Telling him before she'd let him into the apartment would have been her best bet, ripping the confession off like a plaster so he wasn't too shocked when he entered. But Emma was being a coward, and she was running. Apparently hiding everything and keeping it a secret for a little longer was more logical than just speaking the truth. "Mary-Margret being Mary-Margret. Nice hair cut by the way." She said, pointing to his slightly shorter and far more styled black hair. He smiled in response. Perhaps it was just her exhaustion, but Emma was sure it didn't meet his eyes.

"Thanks. Long overdue. Are you okay, you seem stressed?" He asked and Emma forced out the most convincingly smile she could as she desperately pushed Henry's bottles into the washing up bowel and covered them with the closest dishcloth. If Killian noticed he didn't say anything, something Emma counted as a win. On the list of stupid shit that she'd done in her short lifetime, trying to hide her baby from Killian was beginning to reach the top.

"No, no. How's medicine?" She asked, filing up the kettle and busying herself with finding the right mugs and the tea that Killian had always liked.

"It's fascinating. Just been doing obstetrics, actually." He said and Emma was sure she'd heard the word before, but she didn't feel like scanning her internal dictionary right now.

"Wow. Really." Emma said, but even without her superpower she knew that she was feigning interest, and Killian would know it too. Maybe she really was that stressed.

"How do you find these breast pumps, by the way. Most women don't like them."

"They're a nightmare." Emma said, her mouth moving of it's own accord before she'd even realised what she'd said. "Oh God." The words settled in and she turned to see Killian leant against the kitchen island, setting the breast pump in question down beside him as he crossed his arms over his chest. "How did you –"

"Tink." He said, and now he wasn't even looking at her, his eyes too busy looking at the shoes he'd undoubtedly bought in Boston.

"I didn't know you still spoke." Emma said, more chiding herself for not realising sooner. She should have told him when she'd had the chance, and not left him to hear from someone else. Even now as he looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed, Emma couldn't tell if he was angry, disappointed or hurt. If she had to guess she'd say all of the above.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Killian asked. _Angry – definitely angry_. "Or was I just going to receive a graduation invitation in the years to come." He half spat and Emma was already feeling the shame settle in. It was far easier to ignore when she wasn't having her choices spoken to her like she was a lying child. Then again, was Emma any better than a lying child right now? She sure didn't feel like it. "Or better yet, were you going to claim it was Mary-Margret's."

"I was going to tell you." Emma said weakly, and it was true. She'd had the opportunity to do so, she'd just decided against it, choosing to bury it instead. Choosing to run away like she always did. Now the brunt of her actions were hitting her like a punch in the gut.

"Then why didn't you." He ground out, but Emma could hear the poorly concealed hurt in his voice as he spoke. She'd betrayed him, and she knew it as much as he did. Honestly, she wished she could have had more time to explain the situation, to prepare what she was going to say. Being put on the spot like this was building up a horrible instinct for her to just grab her coat and run away until she knew he'd be back at college. That or excuse herself to the toilet and climb down the fire escape. It wouldn't be her proudest moment, but she could do it.

"Because I didn't want to hold you back." She said weakly and Killian scoffed like the idea was unthinkable. That was enough to make Emma's heart drop. She'd truly believed that if he'd known that he'd have stuck by her, but by the way he was acting it sounded like he'd have flown to Boston al the same. But Emma could see the pain in his eyes even though he wasn't looking at her. She knew that this was hurting him and not just because she had lied, but because he hadn't been able to do anything to help her. "Tell me you would have gone." She said amazed by the strength in her voice, her own frustration and anger breaking through. "Tell me that if I'd told you that day at Granny's you'd have still left. That you'd have gone to Boston and started your new life with your brother." She said as she stepped towards him, her finger pointed at his chest, ready to poke him if he didn't look at her to show he was truly listening. "Tell me you'd have left me behind."

"I –" Killian began but cut himself off, running his hands through his shorter hair in frustration, tugging slightly as he grasped a hold of the roots. "Gods, Emma. I can't." he said, throwing his arms wide in exasperation, his eyes finally seeking out hers. It was then that Emma saw how different he looked. Not only did he looked older, with his styled hair and dark, stubbled jaw, but he looked more tired than she'd even seen him. Perhaps College was more pressing than she'd expected. Or perhaps Tink had told him about Henry while he was still in Boston and he and Liam had caught the first plane out to see if the story was true. The thought made her equal parts guilty and loved. "I'd never have left your side. I'd have moved in if David and Mary-Margret would have let me." He rubbed his hands over his face, and Emma allowed herself a small smile. He'd have stayed, he'd have been here though it all. He'd have probably shaken her senseless if he'd known she was planning to give Henry away.

"That's why I didn't tell you." She said and he lifted his head from his hands in time to catch her small smile. "I couldn't stand the thought of ruining your future as well as mine. Boston was your chance." Emma could barely finished before she felt Killian grasp her arm, pulling her towards him until she crashed into his chest, his arms gripping her so tight she was afraid she'd burst. She responded quickly, her arms crossing over his back and gripping tightly to the same leather jacket she'd bought him, the smell of spices and – was that rum? – filling her nostrils as she breathed him in. He felt the same as he always had, but so different too, he was growing up without her, a thought that made her stomach turn unpleasantly. But then he spoke, his voice slightly muffled from where his head had buried itself in her shoulder, but she heard every word as they pierced her chest.

"Can I meet him?"

* * *

"He's truly beautiful, Swan." Killian said from where he lay on Emma's bed. It was such a familiar setting, the two of them in Emma's room, lying facing each other on her bed with the curtains closed. She could almost pretend that nothing had changed, they were just friends catching up after months apart. The slight gurgling sound drowned that thought before she could finish making it.

"He's had colic for months." Emma said, her finger trailing absent minded down her baby's chest, Killian watching her movements intently, his eyes never leaving the new, tiny addition to their talk. "My entire life is feeding, winding and nappies. All I can think about is poo." She said with a small laugh, knowing she'd never change a thing. "How much, when, what colour."

"I severely hope you mean his." Killian said with a short laugh and Emma felt herself grin wider than she had in a long time. "Is this why Neal left?" He asked and Emma could hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice and knew he was just itching to get his hands on the boy who'd left her. He settled instead for twirling one of Henry's teddies between his hands.

"He doesn't even know." Emma said, Killian's eyes snapping to hers. "He left me to stay out of jail. Mary-Margret had to bail me out."

"He let you get arrested!" Killian half shouted and Emma winced, watching Henry for a few seconds, grateful her son could sleep through a hurricane. Perhaps Emma should have mentioned that bit at least. If Killian had woken him then there would be however many minutes of a crying Henry and an apologising Killian. Emma couldn't handle that right now.

"Killian." She hissed, despite Henry not stirring from his slumber Emma felt the need to chastise her friend.

"Jesus, Swan. You always did deserve better than that bastard." Emma chuckled slightly at that, feeling a lightness in her chest that she'd not felt since Killian had left. She'd been so worried that he'd abandon her that he'd kept him at arms length something she swore at a young age never to do to him. Emma was starting to realise that she spent so much time protecting the ones she loved that she'd began to push them away. It was not a pleasant thought."Swan?" he asked and Emma looked back at him with a quiet 'hmm' to show she'd heard him. "Can I be godfather?"

"I'd love nothing more." She said with a breath, the smile that broke over his face enough to warm her heart for years to come. So, she'd not fucked everything up then, that was a plus. She really was a fool in not telling him. "You, David and Liam. The only men in my life." Besides Henry of course, but she didn't feel the need to tell Killian that - he'd already know.

"You know; Liam is dying to meet him too?" Killian said and Emma nodded. Just another person she'd kept herself at a distance from, and now she realised just how foolish an act that was.

"And to kill Neal as well, no doubt?" She said with a chuckle, levelling Killian with the knowing look she'd long since mastered.

"He'll half to get in line." Killian grumbled and Emma smiled. Yes, not telling Killian had been a terrible mistake. She knew that now.

* * *

"I think not telling you was a way to keep our dream alive." Emma said, breaking the silence that she and Killian had been basking in since they'd sat down. Emma and Killian had met with Liam once Henry had decided to wake up in need of feeding (Killian took great pride in being able to hold the bottle for the tiny infant). Liam, who had been taken with Henry from the moment he saw him, had suggest they go to the park, the same one the three of them had played at as children. Granted, the park had been re-vamped since then and the majority of the equipment had been replaced or destroyed completely, but the playground was still surrounded by the same wooded area and football fields. It was familiar, somewhere they could let themselves breath, letting the wind ruffle their hair as they watched dog walkers and parents with push chairs pass them by. It felt like a movie scene, the kind that you watched in black and white, jazz music playing in the background with everyone talking and laughing silently. A couple of picnics were even taking place on spread out tartan blankets despite the slight chill in the newly spring air. "Do you know what I mean?" She asked, her arms wrapped around her knees as she looked at Killian beside her on the slightly raised grassy bank. They weren't far from the playground and Emma could easily spot Liam's bulky build beneath his navy blue pea coat as she pushed Henry ever so gently in the baby swing, the little boy's laughter filling the playground. Emma would die happy should that sound be the last she heard.

"I know." Killian said softly, his eyes not leaving his brother where he stood surrounded by small children running around like crazy people. Emma found it amusing how out of place he looked, and yet how perfect the image was. Killian seemed to be watching the scene unfold with a mild sense of longing that Emma couldn't quite place. She could aske him, of course, but she proffered to leave him in his thoughts for now.

"I just wanted there to be someone out that who still saw me as Emma." She announced, letting her head rest against her arms, the wind blowing her hair over her face beneath the thick grey beanie she was wearing. "I didn't want you to see me as this strange new person just yet." She mumbled, more to herself, but Killian had heard. She saw his movement from the corner of her eye, his large hand reaching out between them, palm up. An invitation that she was never willing to refuse. Reaching back, she let her hand fall over his, her slimmer fingers slipping between his and their hands joined, gripping onto each other as though they were afraid of the other disappearing.

"You'll always be that Emma to me." Killian said, his voice barely above a whisper as she looked up, eyes locking, a small smile spreading onto her lips. She could almost pretend that nothing had changed. Killian hadn't gone to Boston, they were still just sixth-formers, getting drunk at the weekends and laughing like the messed up children they were. She could still ring him at three in the morning after having a weird dream and he'd listen to every word, even offering to come over and share her bed if she was too freaked out and it wouldn't be strange at all, because it was who they were. Friends since the day the brothers Jones had landed in her foster home and given her something she'd never have expected.

They gave her a family. And yet, hearing Henry's laughter in the back of her mind and Liam's chuckle alongside it, Emma didn't want what they once had, she wanted what was coming, whatever the future was to hold. "Now you've just got a plus one." He grinned and Emma laughed slightly, not resisting as Killian pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, his lips making contact with the top of her head, hat and all. And in that moment, the lost little girl knew exactly what family meant.


	7. Maybe We Wouldn't Be Two Worlds Apart

_"People help the people_  
 _And if you're homesick_  
 _give me your hand and I'll hold it"_

 _\- People Help The People, Birdy_

* * *

Despite his wishes to stay, Killian and Liam flew out to Boston only two days after their day in the park with Emma. It had been a short trip, but it had been the most enlightening one Killian had ever experienced. Emma was a mother. Emma, who used to pretend she was a princess when she was young and that her parents had been a king and queen desperate for their only daughter to have her best chance. Emma, who had spent a week sharing Killian's bed when she was ten because the two of them had snuck out and gotten lost in the cemetery, only to be chased though the dark by the grounds keepers dog. Emma, who had run away from the foster home at fourteen despite Killian's worry that something awful had happened to her. He'd hugged her so tightly when she'd be brought home, so terrified she was going to disappear again.

That Emma now had a son, and Killian had missed it. He'd been sitting in bars like the one he was at now, cradling a beer in his hands and laughing along with his peers, joking about his accent and all manner of other meaningless things. She'd been going through hell, and Killian had done nothing to help, only sending the occasional text when he was feeling a little homesick. He'd been moving on with his life and without knowing it, he'd begun to leave her behind. It was so easy for him to do, he may be I a new city with an new life, but he had his brother, the only person who knew him as well as Emma did, but she'd had no one. Killian had never felt like so much of a failure than he did in that moment.

"So!" A voice announced making Killian jump slightly, his beer bottled slipping from his grip but he caught it in time, turning to face the man beside him. He was tall, even as he sat on the stool beside Killian, with a square jaw and something almost deranged about his smile. He seemed far too over dressed for the bar they were in - Or perhaps Killian was underdressed - an extravagant black dress shirt patterned with a grey floral design that reminded Killian of his old foster mother's curtains. Above this he had a velvet waist coat in equally drab clours with an equally bizarre pattern. The cravat her wore around his neck did nothing to hide the ugly, red scar marring his throat. "The last time I looked that depressed I tried to hang myself with my favourite tie." He said, shouting slightly t be heard over the music. Killian had sat deliberately by the speakers in an attempt to avoce conversation. Clearly this man with the fluffy brown hair had other ideas. "Hi, I'm Jefferson." Killian took the extended hand, out of politeness if nothing else.

"Killlian."

"I've been sent here to play fairy godmother." Jefferson said, looking far from happy with the arrangement as he released Killian's hand after a much too long handshake.

"You don't look the part, mate." Killian said, his attire maybe eccentric, but it was anything but fairylike.

"My sister has been driving me crazy. She wants to know if you would buy her a drink." This was new. Sure, girls would send their friends over to, how Jefferson had said, Play fairy godmother, but they never usually sent siblings.

"Which one is she?" Killian asked, feeling that it couldn't hurt. One drink was not a promise, at worst he could feign a headache and go home. He'd done it before, back in England, with Emma by his side. The memory was enough to send another pang of guilt through his chest. Here he was, considering buying other girls drinks while his best friend lays at home with a baby. He should be with her. Instead, he followed Jefferson's pointed finger to the girl sat alone in a booth at the opposite side of the room, her brown curls held back by a braided headband, her blue eyes distinctive in the dark room. "The hot girl from my dorm?" Killian asked, remembering the time he'd bumped into her, never really sparing her a second glance for anything more than appreciation. It was hard not to glance when she was in the laundry room in shorts and a tank top, but Killian was nothing if not a gentleman.

"Milah." Jefferson said, and Killian wondered if everything he said sounded this cynical or if playing fairy godmother was that much of a drag for a sibling. "The bright sunflower of the Hatter family window box." Perhaps he was always this cynical. Killian didn't really have time to dwell though as Milah was already approaching, her smile wide as her skirt swished around her knee's.

"Hey." She said from the other side of Killian's table, her forearms rested on the worn wood. If not for the scarf around her neck, Killian was sure her top was cut low enough for him to see straight down her front. The through wasn't unwelcome, but it was just another thing that reminded him of Emma being alone while he flirted and thought about other girls.

"Hey." He replied because, honestly, what else could he say?"

"Everyone has been wondering why the cute British boy looks so sad." She said and even pouted at the end, her lips painted a soft, but not unnoticeable pink. Killian couldn't really think of how to answer; he didn't even realise that his mood was noticed by that many people. Was it worth mentioning to two people he'd only just met that his best friend was back in England with her entire life already planned out for her? Did he tell them about the guilt he felt for leaving her alone with a new born baby, or alone in the first place? The answer, he sussed, was no. No he did not tell them about Emma. People didn't want to hear that.

"Sorry." He said instead, his voice sounding awfully nervous as he held Milah's gaze.

"It's time to realise that you're hear with us. And that we might be fun to be with." Milah said, reaching over and taking hold of his beer, bringing the bottle to her own lips for a swig. He might have even been annoyed by her forwardness if he wasn't so distracted by the way her throat moved as she swallowed. Perhaps he had no reason to be guilty. Emma was a tough lass, she could handle herself. Besides, she'd kept all of this a secret for so long so Killian wouldn't give up his Boston life for her. To dwell too much on what he'd left behind was doing just that. It was almost an insult to her, he thought. And so he took the plunge, reaching back and taking his bottle back from Milah's grip.

"You may be onto something there, Lass." He said, locking his gaze with hers as he downed the contents of his beer, fully ready to keep living his life the way Emma had asked him to.

* * *

Once Emma had discovered how to properly use video calls like skype, it was far easier to keep in contact. Once a week – if not more – Emma would awake to an unopened video file in her email, and every time she did she was far from disappointed. It was always Killian telling her about his time at college, or Killian and Liam telling her about how amazing Boston was and how she should come a visit. One time it had even been Killian and Milah – his new girlfriend – wishing her a happy Birthday. Emma hadn't enjoyed that one quite so much. Months passed like this until Christmas came around once more and with it, another video.

 _"Henry! It's your first Christmas! I hope you got my present." – "Our present!"_ Emma couldn't help but laugh at Liam boisterous entrance, jumping into the shot as much as he could manage, his face split into a wide smile.

 _"Thank you both for the book."_ Emma had said in her reply, already flicking though the pages of a pop up book of peterpan both Liam and Killian had signed the inside cover of. Emma wouldn't admit it, but her heart beamed after seeing Milah's name not having been added. Her and Killian couldn't be all that serious then. _"I know Henry will love it. One day."_ She'd added, rembering how Henry had sat down in front of the Christmas tree in the loft, his chubby little hand gripping the pages and shaking the book, half hoping it would make some sort of sound. Henry loved things that made sounds, but he also loved picture books. Peter Pan was fast becoming his new favourite.

 _"This is my new apartment!"_ Killian announced on a video not two motnhs later, standing outside the red bricked building on the streets of Boston, snow falling around him and his face pinched red in the most adorable way. Emma's joy at this had fizzled slightly once he'd given her a tour of the lobby, stair well and entrance before entering the actual apartment. _"What's that you're doing there, Darling?"_ he has asked, his camera turned around to show Milah standing on a chair, her brown hair pulled back and away from her face, her blouse opened more than Emma deemed necessary. _"Umm, handmade cards."_ Milah had replied shyly into the camera, still pinning pieces of string onto the beam below the ceiling. _"And here we have my favourite_ Pirates of the Caribbean _poster"_ Emma had laughed at this, both from his enthusiasm at the signed poster of the main cast that he'd had framed, but also because it was the one that Emma had bought him for Christmas a few years ago. _"It will look so special in the bathroom."_ Milah had said, moving into the shot beside the poster. If Emma hadn't disliked this woman before, she was certainly beginning to now.

Year's passed by and Emma was finding something of a footing in the world. Henry was four years old and quite the little firecracker. He was constantly showered in attention by both Emma, Ruby and David and Mary-Margret – who were also pregnant with their own child. Mary-Margret had only found out two weeks ago, but she was beaming brighter than the sun as she told Emma the news. Something of a party had then transpired at Granny's with David and Mary-Margret as the guests of honour. Henry had loved the idea of a new playmate from the get go.

 _"Henry Swan, it's your fourth Christmas!"_ Killian's next video opened up with. Emma had laughed until she saw Milah bound in from the back ground, singing along beside Killian. _Fra-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la!" She sang with a bright smile. Four years. Her and Killian had been together four years and yet Emma had never met the woman though anything besides a camera. It was not a day she was excited for, that was for sure._ _"Did mommy get my Christmas card?" Milah had asked, just as Liam had fallen through the front door, arms full of presents, his face broken into a wide smile when he saw the camera._ _"Merry Christmas Swan's!"_ He called, making a big show of dropping the presents and blowing the camera a kiss. That, at least, managed to take Emma's mind off of the horrifically cheesy Christmas card she'd received from Milah.

It was home a printed and a photograph of Killian and her, both wearing Christmas hats and smiling into the camera. The image made both her and Ruby cringe. Emma and Ruby had in fact found it so funny that they'd made a card of their own. It was printed rather shoddily on red card, showing a photograph of Emma with a santa hat on, Ruby dressed in the most revealing santa costume Emma had seen and Henry dressed as Rudolph. She'd loved the picture so much she'd even kept a copy for herself and sent one to Mary-Margret.

 _"Thanks for Henry's present."_ Emma said in her next video, smiling when she could hear said present being played on repeat behind her. Killian had bought Henry the DVD of Peter Pan now, all editions that had ever been made, including Disney and Robin Williams version. Killian had somehow managed to spark an obsession in the small boy, something she chided him and Liam for with every visit they made. Visits that were becoming less and less frequent. _"He wants me to tell you that he can cycle and count to five."_ Just not at the same time, Emma recalled as Henry cycled down the pavement outside of the loft, David's arms welcome and waiting as an even heavier pregnant Mary-Margret watched with a smile. _"Me, I've got a job. And I've finally moved out of the loft, Dave and Mary-Margret are going to need all the spaced they can get."_ She didn't tell him what her job entailed, figuring that living above Granny's Diner was one thing, to also be a waitress in it was something else entirely.

A few months passed with this new arrangement, Emma working at the Diner alongside Ruby, Mary-Margret watching Henry while she cared for her own baby, Leo. Then Emma would pick him up and retire to her new flat. It wasn't enormous, but it was efficient, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen/ dining room. Emma wasn't sure what more she could need. Except perhaps for Ruby to not be living in the flat net door, her music blaring through the thin wall.

"Mummy, Mummy!" Henry announced one morning in Septemeber, effectively waking Emma up as he came charing into her bedroom. "It's the frst day of school!" He announced, amazingly already up and dressed. Emma, however, was neither. She was in fact in bed with a man, a man she'd met through a work do with David. A man called Graham.

"Um," Emma said, sitting up in bed and cursing that her hand was still cuffed to the metal frame. Her and Graham had had quite the night, she couldn't deny that. "I heard that some beds were being stolen recently." She lied and was grateful that Henry a was both too young to understand the situation before him and naïve enough to still believe Emma's stories. "Isn't that strange?" She said, watching as Graham pulled on some trousers and even his shirt.

"Yes Mummy." Henry replied, his hand in his mouth as he watched Graham with interest.

"This way, no one can come and steal ours." She said, rattling the handcuffs for god measure. It would have gone fine had Henry not spoken again.

"Are you my daddy?" He asked and Emma felt herself pale. This was not the way her morning had meant to go.

"No," Emma said, watching Graham as he searched through pockets for the handcuff key. "He's just a nice man that's helping Mummy out, is all. In fact, he works with uncle David. Isn't the great." And then Grham said the four words that made Emma's heart sink – _It's the wrong key._ Fucking perfect.

When Emma would look back on her life, she hd to admit, Henry's first day of school had been an interesting one. With no time to find the right cuff key and time running out, she'd opted instead for taking the whole bedframe with her to the primary school. It was that or try and squeeze her hand through the gap, something that had been proved not to work.

"Over there!" Henry announced, dragging her by the hand as she ducked slightly under the bedframes weight. "Quick, Mummy! We have to find Mary-Margret!" He continued to drag her until he reached his classroom, dashing inside instantly. Emma would have followed, but the laws of physics seemed to take effect, the bedframe slamming against the doorway, too wide to fit through. "love you." Henry said, doubling back to reach around his mothers neck.

"I love you." Emma said, wrapping her free arm around her son's waist, planting a soft kiss on his full head of brown hair. _God, he looked so much like his father._

"Bye Mummy!" He said before moving in amongst the other children in search for his seat.

"Emma?" Mary-Margret's voice sounded in the hallway. Emma cringed. She'd half hoped she could get out before running into her. But of course, fate never was much on Emma's side. "I see you and Graham had fun." Her eyes were wide and Emma was grateful that her judgment was minimal. This was Mary-Margret's first day back at school after the birth of her son. Emma was amazed she'd agreed to a baby sitter, Mary-Margret having not parted with the tiny boy since he'd been born. Emma had been quite good at swallowing her groan when they told her that Belle – Tink's cousin – was the nanny they had decided upon.

"Can we talk about this later?" Emma asked, pulling herself back into a standing position, leaving her dignity behind. She'd not even been able to dress herself fully, only one of her arms through the sleeve of her red leather jacket. "Over a glass of wine or a few – bottles." She added, rubbing her face with her hand.

"Get home, Emma. And for god's sake, get that thing off of you." She said with a laugh that Emma tried hard to return, she really did.

* * *

"You know, there were razor hairs in the bathroom again today." Milah said as she scrubbed her saucepan a little harder than necessary, the muscles in her arms taught. She wasn't looking at Killian which meant he'd definitely done something wrong.

"Really?" He replied, figuring that playing dumb was much more acceptable than arguing back. At least that's what he'd thought.

"You know it gives me allergies." She said, her voice sharp and clipped. Killian knew he was walking on the edge of a knife, but this argument had been brought up far too many time over the course of them living together.

"We have a cleaning lady." He pointed out, spooning his final mouthful of scrambled egg into his mouth. They were the fancy eggs that Milah often made for their breakfast, with bits of tomato and more seasoning than Killian ever really thought was necessary. He was beginning to miss simple food, like scrambled eggs without tomato and too much seasoning, and tomato soup from a can, things he only managed to eat either when he stayed at Liam's apartment a few blocks away (Something that was occurring less and less) or when he visited Emma and stayed with either her or the Nolan's (Something that was happening even less than visiting Liam).

"And what do you want." Milah said letting the saucepan slosh into the dish water, not seeming to mind when the sudsy water splashed over her. Killian was just thankful she was wearing an apron to protect her over expensive clothes she surely shouldn't be able to afford, otherwise all hell would break lose. "for her to think we're a pair of fuck ups." Trivial arguments such as this had become something of a daily occurrence, one that usually ended with Killian slipping out towards a bar to drink, or with Milah claiming she'd just go and stay with her brother. Killian didn't even realise the fight had been forgiven half the time, he'd just come home to Milah being overly smiley with some manner of extravagant food on the table. It was beginning to be a bit of a head-fuck if he was being honest. He was missing the simplicity of his old life, he was missing feeling welcome in his own home, he was missing Emma.

"That's exactly what we are." He said, dropping his spoon loudly onto his plate, something he knew aggravated Milah. It was petty, he knew it was, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to stop. He'd had enough of this, he'd had enough of it weeks ago, and yet he was still there. He couldn't even explain it to himself anymore, Liam thought he was being mad but Killian couldn't find it in his heart to agree with him. Was it worth throwing away almost five years of a relationship because they were arguing? Was what they had really that fragile? No, he was sure whatever it was it could be worked through, they just needed some space without each other for a little while – Killian needed some time away. He needed a drink he needed – he needed Emma.

The second he'd stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the night life of Boston, his phone buzzed. Clicking open the message he saw it was from Kristoff, a friend he'd met at the library on Campus. It was about his bachelor party, something both Killian and Jefferson had promised to organise. He still had a few weeks to get it done, but with the way him and Milah were acting he wasn't sure he'd even be going to the wedding. Then again, Milah had not technically been invited, she would have simply been a plus one. Killian doubted she'd even want to go, she always said Kristoff smelt like a reindeer and that his fiancé Anna was the most infuriating woman she'd ever met. He didn't question how she'd know about the scent of a reindeer, but for fear of starting another argument he didn't asked. And then he had an idea. Sending a quick reply to Kristoff, telling him everything would be organised and sorted in time, not to worry, he sent another message.

 _I miss you, Swan. Please come visit, ok?_

Her response had been immediate, telling him that so long as she saved up and got enough time off work that she'd be there.

* * *

 **So, let me know what you thought!**


	8. You'd Be Standing Right Where You Were

**So in celebration of the finale tonight (And the start of another hiatus) I've decided to post two chapters at once. It's also because other wise this would have been a 7,000+ words chapter and even I thought that would be too much in one go.**

 **Any, I'm also incredibly hung over right now and so my proof reading game is not too strong.**

 **Give me a review or ask me questions and make me feel better ;)**

* * *

 _Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance,_

 _I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down._

 _Wont' you let me lead, you can step on my feet_

 _\- All About Us, He is We_

* * *

Two weeks later and Emma had found a plane ticket in her post, accompanied by a letter hand written in Killian's surprisingly neat and tidy handwriting. He wanted her to come and stay, and he wanted her to be the plus one to his friends wedding in just over two weeks time. Emma had begun her plans instantly, even booking her time off from the diner and making sure David and Mary-Margret were okay watching Henry.

"What have you told the poor sod?" Ruby asked as she pulled into the drop off area of the airport – the same one Emma had said goodbye to Killian in the first place. In her hands was the drawing Henry had done at school of her with yellow hair and a red jacket, Henry in the middle with his stripey red scarf and finally Killian, with his black leather and a Hook for a hand. Emma had really tried to wein Henry off of Peter Pan, she'd even tried getting him interested in Harry Potter, but to no avail. Henry was obsessed, and had even gone so far as to label Killian as Captain Hook, a title Killian had taken to like a duck to water. "That you're coming home with a dad?"

"Of course not. Henry know's Killian and I are just friends. He doesn't think of this as anything serious." Emma reasoned, climbing out of her yellow bug and moving to get her suitcase from the boot, Ruby's accusing gaze following after her.

"And what about you?" Ruby asked knowingly, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising towards her hairline at an alarming rate.

"Please, just because he sent me a ticket, I've got no expectations."

"Good. Because he's got a girlfriend." Ah Ruby, ever the wise old hypocrite she always was. Emma knew for a fact that half of the men she wound up with had girlfriends in various degrees of severity, not that Ruby seemed all too fussed.

"You know it's funny, her name didn't actually come up once." Ruby had finally managed to weasel it out of Emma that she was jealous of Milah, something Emma had not taken too kindly to. In fact, the idea of it had been eating away at her for what felt like months now, the thought that she might see Killian in a very different light. Now, with no mention of Milah, a plane ticket, and an invitation to be plus one at his close friend's wedding, Emma couldn't help but wonder if she too was in a different light.

"Well. Henry is mature enough to know that when it comes to men, it doesn't matter." Ruby argued, passing Emma her passport and ticket that she'd stupidly left on the dashboard. She pocketed them quickly.

"Please, he's a kid. He wants chocolate milk on his cereal. That and he must know that something had triggered Killian's sudden enthusiasm to see his mummy, who by the way knows him better than anyone – except maybe Liam – and is clearly the best person to judge." Ruby smiled at this, the almost feral, wolfish smile that told Emma she wasn't fooling anyone. Emma smirked in response before hugging her friend goodbye and making her way into the airport.

Emma was grateful that Killian had been considerate enough to give her a window seat on the plane since she'd never actually flown before. However, ten hours on the first flight of her life cramped against a window with not too easy access to the toilet? Let's just say, he was lucky she loved him. Despite her nerves and mild discomfort for being so high in the air and surrounded by strangers, Emma had never felt more excited. She was seeing Killian for the first time in, well, however long it had been (Too long) and she hadn't been lying when she said that no mentions of Milah had come up. Now, Emma wasn't getting her hopes up, Killian was a friend – her best friend – but he had flown her out to Boston, invited her to be plus one to his friend's wedding and with no mention of his girlfriend, it was fair to Emma to believe there maybe something else there, something she'd been lying to herself about for nigh on years now.

He was waiting for her on the opposite side of the terminal, the way she was sure he would be, his eyes scanning the crowd of disembarking passengers and Emma felt her stomach do somersaults when she saw the bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. The second they made eye contact Emma couldn't hold back. She ran to him, her face broken into a bright smile as she jumped into his waiting arms. It had been too long since they'd last seen one another in person, that she didn't even care about the other occupants of the airport watching her as she jumped at him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her. They were together, after months of nothing but video chats, and to be wrapped in the familiar spicy scent of his cologne and his strong arms was all ever could ever have hoped for.

"These are for you." Killian said with a smile as he set Emma back on her feet, holding out the sunflowers towards her. There weren't many of them, and the stems had been cut short – something Emma was grateful for – they wouldn't be too much of a burden for her to carry. "So, tired, hungry?" He asked, the wicked smirk that Emma recognised so well playing on his lips.

"No, why?" Emma asked with a smile of her own, looking over his appearance and finding herself amazed that he was wearing blue suit trousers, the most sensible shoes Emma had ever seen his wear and a white shirt, the top two buttons undone as per Killian's usual look.

"We have a wedding to get to." He said before picking up her bag and extending his elbow towards her. Emma only rolled her eyes for a moment, but it was half-hearted, before taking Killian's extended arm and following him out of the airport terminal.

* * *

Emma was grateful that she still had two hours before the wedding actually began, so once she and Killian arrived at the hotel she was able to slip into his room to change and make herself as presentable as possible.

The wedding itself had been a beautiful ceremony. The bride – Anna, Emma now knew – had looked amazing in her crisp white dress, her auburn hair braided into a complex crown that made Emma's head swirl, a white ribbon threaded through the updo.

Everything was decorated like a winter wonderland. Icicles hung from the chandeliers, fake snow dusting the floor just thin enough to not be an inconvenience. White and pale blue ribbons and balloons seemed to be attached to every surface, and the tables were dusted with silver, confetti snowflakes that kept getting stuck to Emma's fingers. The groom had only had three groomsmen, one of whom had been Killian, now dressed in his full dark blue suit and black tie, matching the other two groomsmen, a man who had been introduced as Jefferson who had hair that seemingly defied gravity, and another, pale blonde haired man named victor.

The bride had three bridesmaids as well, each of them dressed in beautiful, pale, long-sleeved blue gowns adorned with a white lace train embroidered with what Emma thought were snowflakes. She hadn't been introduced to any of them yet.

The ceremony wasn't very long, the bride seeming far too bouncy to spend too long waiting to be married. Emma's personal favourite moment had been the ring bearer, the groom's shaggy brown husky – Sven. Before long, everyone was joined together in the hotel's ball room, laughing and dancing together.

"Care to dance?" Emma glanced up from her flute of champage to see Killian standing over her, hand extended towards her. He'd kept disappearing the entire evening, dragged away to speak to this person or this relative. He'd refused a couple of times, but after Emma's assurance that she'd be okay, he'd followed, apologising to her over his shoulder.

"You know I don't dance." She reasoned, but Killian just smiled wider.

"Come on, Swan, take my hand. I'll teach you." Had she not been sat down for the majority of the party, she would have refused, but as it happened she'd been incredibly antisocial for the entire evening, and so she took his hand, letting him pull her up with him and onto the dancefloor. "It's quite simple. You just need a partner who knows what he's doing."

"Since when could you dance?" Emma asked as he placed his hand on her waist. It was all she could do not to shiver at the feeling of his fingers through the thin material of her pale pink dress. It wasn't much of an occasion dress, but it was all she had. Plus, she'd worked hard to dress it up, wearing a jewellery set she'd borrowed from Mary-Margret and even managing to organise her blonde curls so they fell over her shoulders in waves, a pink beret holding a small fraction of it away from her face.

"Since the groom insisted his men not fall over the bridesmaid's feet during their first dance." Killian said with a laugh, but Killian had always been a dancer, Emma knew, this was just polishing up a technique that had been long since buried. Without warning, Killian spun Emma slightly, and she fought the urge to squeal in surprise as her back arched slightly. Before she could start cartwheeling her arms like a cartoon, though, Killian's hand rested at the small of her back.

"Relax, Swan, I won't let you fall down." She smiled at that, even fighting the horrible urge to blush that had begun pooling in her stomach since the airport. This territory felt new, more intimate than he and Emma had ever ventured before, his hand on her lower back fogging up her mind. This was dangerous, she knew that, but she couldn't help but revel in it. "Let me lead, Swan." Killian said with a laugh, noticing how Emma tried to direct their dancing to her own ways. He could laugh all he wanted, but Emma was sure she was getting the hang of it by now. "You can even step on my feet."

Before long, night had fallen, and with it a much less elegant wedding party had ensued. Anna had changed from her beautiful ball gown into a much more practical white shift dress, with small lace capped sleeves, and was laughing extraordinarily loudly as her husband – having abandoned his blazer – poured her another drink. They were outside now, beside the rather large pool that Emma had thought was bigger than her bedroom. Fairy lights hung above them in lanterns, white and glowing above their heads like stars as attendee's drank and laughed into the night.

"Do you want another?" Killian asked, already taking her plastic cup from her hands. It was a fairly pointless question since Emma had barely let loose like this since Henry had been born.

"Of course!" She replied over the noise and Killian smirked, disappearing into the dancing crowd of still young adults in search of their next drink. Emma could only wonder for a second what she should do while she waited before a voice sounded at her elbow.

"You're new here." It said and Emma turned to see one of Kristoff's groomsman, the pale blonde haired one, extending his hand towards her. "I'm Victor." He said.

"Emma." She replied, finding that she wasn't completely opposed to the company. If anything the conversation could be entirely innocent and kill the time she spent waiting for Killian.

"Emma." He echoed, as though testing how the name felt on his tongue. "So, are you bride or groom?" He asked, gesturing towards the couple dancing with their arms around each other.

"Neither." Emma said as conversationally as she could manage. "I'm a plus one with a friend." Victor nodded, bobbing slightly to the music and regarding Emma with interest. Apparently the prospect of meeting a stranger at a wedding with no risk of seeing them again was an appealing one.

"So, what do you do?" At least he was being polite about it and not straight up asking if he was single. That was always a plus for Emma, it meant that when she turned them down they didn't tend to kick off and took it more on the nose.

"I'm a mum." No point in lying, it wasn't too big a deal. Emma was in her twenties now, there were plenty of women, especially in a big city like Boston, in their twenties with children. Emma supposed he'd take the news alright.

"Is that some kind of, like, performance thing? Are you a drama major?" That was a very interesting take on the situation.

"No, I'm a mother. I've got a five-year-old boy." She said over the slowly loudening music. Judging by the look on Victors face, young mothers were not a prospect he found appealing.

"Cool. Um, can I – er. Do you want a drink of some kind?" He asked, but Emma couldn't answer, her was already backing away through the crowd, stumbling slightly as he went.

"Here is your whiskey." Emma sighed in relief at Killian's amused voice by her shoulder. He was laughing at her, of course he was. He always laughed at her.

"Thank god." Emma said, taking a generous gulp of the fizzy-alcoholic mix as Killian smiled at her knowingly, his own cup of rum in his hand.

"Come on, Little brother." Liam announced, his hands clasping Killian's shoulders. "You're apparently the only one yet to go in the pool."

"Pool?" Emma asked, watching as Killian groaned.

"Apologies, Emma." Liam said, the mischievous glint that she knew oh-so-well in his eyes. It was the same look she recognised from their time in the foster home, the same one they'd once shared when they'd decided to pull the sofa that Killian had been sleeping on out onto the street. It hadn't been an easy task, but worth it. They'd received the expected reaction from Killian, the shouted curse words ringing through the hallways and the inevitable slamming of his fist against the shut door of his and Liam's bedroom while Liam and Emma tried to stifle their laughter. "All the other groomsmen have gone in, now it's just Killian's turn."

"Come on, guys." Killian pleaded, laughter in his voice as one of the groomsmen, the extravagant one with the gravity defying hair and cravat – Jefferson, Emma remembers – took Killian's drink from his hand. "Guys, please." He said as two other party guests, ones Emma assumed where more of Killian's friends caught a hold of him, one of them holding his legs, the other gripping his under his arms and swinging him slightly. "Emma, please." He said, looking to her, but Emma just waved back mockingly, enjoying the light-hearted dread on his face. Clearly going into the pool wasn't the worst thing that could have happened this evening, Killian probably found it all very funny, but he'd rather not get soaked.

"Are they always like this?" Emma asked over her shoulder to Liam, seeing how he stood, arms crossed, blazer gone, smiling broadly at the situation before him.

"From what I've seen? Yes." A feminine voice replied. Craning her neck to see past Liam's still bulky build. Clearly whatever line of business he'd chosen to begin, there was still enough time to work on his physique. "I'm Elsa." The woman said, extending her arm in front of Liam for Emma to shake. She accepted instantly, recognising the pretty, white-blonde haired woman as the bride's maid of honour. "Sister to the lovely bride." She said, quite unnecessarily. Emma thought that despite Elsa's more elegant posture and lighter hair, the two sisters looked very alike. The same, soft almond shaped blue eyes, the same soft rosy cheeks and cute button nose.

"Emma, friend of the pool guy." Emma said with a small laugh, pointing to where the group of men were stil teasing Killian, swinging him over the edge of the pool by his arms and legs but not yet dropping him. Jefferson stood to the side, holding a handful of what were presumably things Killian didn't want to get wet – his phone, wallet, etc.

"And I am Liam." Liam interrupted, reaching to take Elsa's hand, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles as she flushed slightly. Emma rolled her eyes. She knew Liam, and knew that he'd never hurt a fly, he was nothing more than a giant teddy bear at the worst of times, but hi methods of 'wooing' women, as he so often called it, was sometimes cringey to watch. Elsa didn't seem to think so, as her cheeks were pinker and she still hadn't retrieved her hand. "Might I be able to get you a drink?"

"Sure." Elsa replied, smiling slightly at Liam, looking up at him though her eyelashes. "It was nice to meet you, Emma." She said and Emma nodded her agreement. It had been nice. Emma didn't expect to meet any of Killian's friends that she'd actually like, not if the video's of Milah were anything to go by. She'd been in Boston for nearly the entire day, jet lag and all, and yet she'd not heard Milah's name uttered once. Perhaps there was reason to hope after all.

"Great to see you again, lass." Liam said, swopping in to give Emma a quick kiss on the cheek, his arm circling her shoulder to bring her closer. "I'll see you again before you fly out." He said and Emma nodded, smiling at the man close enough to her to be a brother. "My lady?" He said, offering his arm to Elsa. Emma was almost embarrassed for him and his ridiculous 'wooing' methods, but then Elsa took his arm, smiling up at him. With one last wink to Emma over his shoulder, Liam led Elsa away.

The splash that sounded from behind her told Emma that shed missed Killian going into the pool, which was a tragedy. His friends and the other groomsmen laughed for a moment, watching Killian as he emerged from under the surface, pushing his now dripping hair off of his forehead. It took him a moment of searching the pool side until his eyes landed on Emma. Then he was swimming towards her.

"Care to give me a hand, Swan?" Killian asked, one hand holding the pools side, the other reaching out towards her. Feigning thought, Emma tapped her lip with her finger before smiling down a him.

"Alright," she said, placing her drink onto the table closest to her and steadying he feet in preparation to help him out. She recognised her mistake just before the smirk crossed his lips. Killian's grip tightened, his smirk turning into his classic, mischievous smile before Emma felt the tug on her arm. There was only a second between her feet leaving the poolside and her body connecting with the pool, but it was enough for her to let out a shocked little squeak. The first sound she heard as she emerged, her hair plastered to her face, neck and shoulders was Killian's laughter, so joyous and loud.

"I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't sound at all remorseful. Emma was just grateful the pool wasn't too deep for her to stand up in, even if her shoes would be ruined. They weren't her favourites anyway, and she'd brought another pair. If the feeling of the material wasn't enough give away that her dress was all but see through, the widened eyes the Killian was gazing at her through definitely was. "I'm sorry, Swan. You are looking way too hot right now."

Emma tried to cover herself up but it was pointless, no one was even looking at the couple of moron's fully clothed in the pool anyway. This likely happened all the time. Instead, Emma smirked before jumping towards Killian, aiming to push him over once more into the water. But he caught a hold of her, as he always did, his arm circling her back and spinning her around. She felt herself laughing, all the stress of her life ebbing away into he night.

She was just Emma again, with Killian, her best friend. To two of them fucking about under the stars like they always did, their soaking bodies pressed together an illuminated by the underwater pool lights. _I could have had this._ Emma thought, watching Killian's eye seek out hers. _I could have had all of this._ She was surprised by how little regret she felt.

After pulling themselves out of the pool, Emma and Killian opted for sitting on the edge of the pool side, their feet submerged in the water. Emma had even removed her shoes, the water lapping slightly against her ankles and bare legs. His shoulder was touching hers, his blazer discarded and his tie removed leaving him in his soaked white shirt, his chest hair visible both through the waterlogged material and the three button's he'd decided to undo. And that's how they stayed for the rest of the party, talking like teenagers about anything and everything, the way they had as children in their makeshift blanket forts in Emma's foster home bedroom. It was perfect, everything Emma had ever wanted. It felt like home.

* * *

"It's strange to think I could have lived here." Emma said when the morning light began to filter across the sky. She and Killian had been out all night. Due to their slight intoxication, as Killian had called it, the two of them had opted for wandering around the Boston streets rather than sleeping at the hotel like regular people would. They'd watched as shops began to open, placing their signs out in the streets ready to beckon customers inside. They'd finally stopped at a large patch of grass outside of a large building Emma was sure Killian knew the entire history off. She would be sure to ask later.

"Hmm." Killian replied. He was sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him, his hands planted on the ground to hold him up as he tipped his head back towards the sky. They'd not even changed out of their wedding clothes, Killianwearing just an untouched and overly unbuttoned white shirt and Emma still in her pale pink, now crumpled dress. He had given her his blazer thought, claiming it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Emma had excepted it without questioning, remembering their drive home after the dance, the moment that they had agreed to do all of this together. That was, until everything fell apart.

"I don't regret Henry, you know." She said, and Killian tilted his head to look down at her. She in turned looked up at him. She was sure her face was a mess, any makeup that hadn't been claimed by the pool was likely spattered across her cheeks, and her hair had likely returned to its natural state, the matted curls frizzing slightly. "I mean, how could I? He's the most amazing kid." Killian nodded in agreement, and Emma felt her heart lurch. Maybe it was the alcohol still waiting to leave her system spurring her on, or maybe it was just something that needed to be said, but Emma had no idea why she spoke her next words. "He reminds me more of you than Neal. But that's probably because of how much I care about him." Killian was still looking down at her, his blue eyes clear and open in a way that Emma had missed so much over the past five years. She felt herself leaning towards him, not entirely sure why, her eyes doing so much as beginning to drift close. Killian was leaning too, his lips only centimetre's from hers before he stopped, turning his head with a sharp intake of breath.

"We should go." Was all he said, an Emma felt the rejection crushing down on her. _Time to run,_ was all she thought as she scrambled to her feet, up and away from him. She looked around quickly before remembering where she was. _Nowhere to run._ Great, she was going to have to face this and she really, really didn't want to.


	9. And We'd Get The Chance We Deserve

**Two updates, as promised.**

 **Let me know what you think. You know I love your feedback!**

* * *

 _"You go back to him and then I'll go back to her."_

 _\- Speeding Car, Walking On Cars_

* * *

The walk back to Killan's apartment was all but silent, neither of them speaking unless Emma was asking a questions and Killian was answering, or Killian was spouting fun facts about Boston and its buildings. It was awkward, Emma knew that. She had tried to kiss him and he'd rejected her, but if Emma was good t anything, it was avoiding her problems. And so she sparked conversation. She spoke about their old memories, about drinking together and picking on Liam, of getting detentions and annoying an authority figure within a mile radius. It worked, and by the time Killian was twisting the key in his lock the two of them talking about the most random memories they could think of.

It wasn't only after they' stepped through the door that Emma felt the laughter dry in her mouth as she came face to face with the last person she'd expected to see.

"Milah, Emma. Emma, Milah." Killian said, gesturing between the two women, but Emma felt like the bottom of her stomach had just dropped out , dragging all the air from her lungs. Milah was even more beautiful when she wasn't on camera, and judging by the silk night shirt and matching dressing gown Emma was sure that she'd only just woken up. No one was allowed to look that beautiful having only just woken up.

"Good moring." Milah recovered quickly, tying her dressing gown shut and smiling at Emma. If she was at all shocked that Emma was there, she hid it well.

"Hey," Emma said, and she knew it was weak, but it was all she could think to say, watching how Killian scratched behind his ear while Milah watched over the two of them with piercing eyes. This was going to be a very interesting trip.

* * *

"Wow." Emma said that night at dinner, looking at the plate Milah had just placed in front of her. Emma had no clue what it was, but it was laid out beautifully and looked like a flower. She almost didn't want to eat it. "This should be in a museum." She said and tried – she really did – to keep the sarcasm from her voice. There was a time and a place to be rude, and this wasn't it.

"Oh, it's nothing." Milah said, sitting down herself, brushing her thick brown curls over her shoulder. If Emma had thought this woman was unfairly beautiful in the morning, seeing her when she was making an effort was almost hard to look at. Her ale eyes seemed brighter, her skin glowed and her hair, even Emma wanted to run her fingers through it. "Just quail egg and asparagus with filo pastry and a cream of rocket sauce." Emma wasn't sure if everything Milah had just said was even food, but began to pick up her cutlery anyway.

"Well, my regular is turkey dinosaurs and baked beans." Emma said. Henry was going through another phase, turkey dinosaurs were in and anything green and mildly healthy was way out. Not that Emma ate healthily at all, in fact, Mary-Margret always mocked Emma by saying she ate like a child, something that made her step-sister Regina turn up her nose.

"The good old British baked bean." Milah said, and Emma could feel the disapproval rolling off of Milah despite her kind smile. "Zero nutritional value, of course." Emma had enver been the jealous type, that was something she'd always prided herself on, but knowing that this was the woman chose, this beautiful, healthy and sophisticated woman – it was enough to make Emma's stomach roll in an unpleasant and unwelcomed way.

"But bloody good on toast." Killian added, and Emma was grateful that he was there. Of course this was his apartment, but knowing he still had her back, especially when Emma was in such foreign territory was heart-warming. It reminded her that Milah and Killian maybe together, but he and Emma had a lifetime together. They had secrets and codes, they could read one another and if it wasn't for Liam, Emma was sure she'd be the only person who could understand who Killian really was.

They al laughed at that, Milah little tightly, and then Jefferson – the eccentric groomsman with the seeming extensive cravat collection – was pouring them all more wine, something Emma accepted eagerly.

"You know I can't drink." Milah said, placing her hand over her glass. Frankly it irritated Emma. If she couldn't drink then why have a wine glass next to you. Perhaps Milah was the type of person to beg for attention off of others as subtly as she could, or maybe Emma was just being bitter again.

"Oh, of course." Jefferson said, turning to fill up his own glass. "But how are we going to cope without the numbing haze of alcohol." For all his cynicism and the unnerving feeling he gave her, Emma was beginning to like Jefferson.

"Why can't you drink?" Emma asked, taking a sip of her own wine and seeing Killian choke slightly on his from the corner of her eye. "If that's not a rude question." Emma was praying silently it was health issues, or liver problems, or anything but what she was currently thinking.

"Killian." Milah said curtly, looking toward her boyfriend with an expectant eyebrow raised. Clearly Emma couldn't read Killian as well as she thought.

"Well – um, you see, Emma -erm" Killian fumbled, a tell-tale sign her was nervous, Emma had seen it many times before, but never because of her. Killian was always, _always_ honest with her.

"Killian and I are pregnant." Milah said when she noticed Killian wasn't going to say anything. "Twelve and half weeks."

"That's wonderful." Emma said, because it was what people said when news like this was announced. It didn't mean for a scond that she was happy with this arrangement. "Congratulations. Killian, you didn't tell me?"

"You're hardly one to judge about secret pregnancies, Swan." Killian said, takig a large gulp of his drink. Emma wanted to another one of her own, or a few. Hell, just give her the bottle, she could drink straight from that. His words hurt, but Emma knew they weren't unjustified. Emma certainly didn't want to be sat down doing nothing anymore, and so when Milah began clearing plates away, Emma was up on her feet.

"Here, let me help you with that." But as she stood, her knee bumped the table, knocking over the glass of wine that had been sat in front of her.

"That is an antique table, Killian, quick!" Milah said as Killian jumped up try and stop the wines damage.

"Oh bollocks." Killian said as he picked the glass back up, seeing the wine had already soaked through the white table cloth and was already touching the table. Emma, personally, thought that having a white table cloth when serving white wine was stupid, however sophisticated. Perhaps it was just the mother coming out in her, but the only table cloth Emma had was plastic and covered in zoo animals to stop Henry making a mess.

"Language, please." Milah said desperately, and Emma wanted to scoff. Any girlfriend of Killian's should know that his language was not something easily managed.

"Oh, fuck it." He said, proving Emma's point. That was when Milah, for all her 'calm' composure, lost it.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SAY FUDGE." The room fell silent then, but all it took was one look between Killian and Emma before the room erupted in laughter, Emma and Killian finding the entire situation entirely ridiculous. Clearly Milah wasn't used to such a response since she gripped a hold of the already ruined table cloth and tugged. Everything went flying, glasses shattering and plates smashing, cutlery clinked against the wooden floor, wine spilling even more than before. If Emma hadn't thought Milah was a little unhinged before, she definitely did now.

"Look what you made me do." Milah said, playing off the whole situation like it was an innocent accident, like Kilian had made her jump or something stupid like that. Not that she'd managed to single handed destroy an entire table set and leave the other three adults stunned, eyes wide and blinking. Emma almost didn't want to move, afraid that Milah would lash out at her for stepping her foot out of place. "It's fine. It's okay. We have Rumple's art showcase in an hour." She began to say, picking up a leaflet from the counter and beginning to read it, masking her sniffles with small bursts of quiet laughter. "Everything is going to be fine." Somehow, Emma doubted that.

* * *

Emma didn't know what an art showcase really was, but she didn't like it. Not one bit. Killian was stood taking to Milah who seemed to have toned down her fatal attraction, bunny boiling performance the second they'd stepped out of the house. She also seemed to be making a point of keeping Killian away from Emma with her random small talk and pointing out people, something Emma – a stranger to all this pointless, artistic crap – was far from grateful for.

"I'm so sorry," Killian said, coming to stand beside Emma who was nursing her third – maybe fourth – glass fo wine of the night. It was doing very little to lift her spirits in the wide open space of a building, al high doorways and glass windows. "Milah has had this planned for weeks, Rumple is a big mentor for her.I promise it's not for long." Emma doubted that and was about to voice her thoughts on it when, low and behold, Milah appeared, gripping tightly to Killian's arm through his leather jacket.

"Sweetie, Dr. Hopper is over there by the sweet and sour prawns." She said excitedly, pointing towards the buffet table where a wiry man with curly ginger hair and round glasses perched on his nose was standing, a Dalmatian at his heels. Emma wasn't even sure you were allowed to bring pets to an art exhibit, but hey, who was she to know. She'd not felt this uncultured in her entire life.

"Love, not now." Killian said, his smile tight and dismissing. Clearly the events of their earlier dinner was not lost at all on Killian. Milah, however, seemed rather adamant over the situation.

"But he's the senior thoracic surgeon, Killian." She said, giving Emma a can-you-believe-this look. Emma didn't appreciate it at all. She had no idea what a thoracic surgeon was, and frankly, she didn't want to.

"She's right, Killian." Emma said, because if she got another look like that from Milah she wasn't sure how accountable she would be for her actions. "Go on." Killian didn't seem at all convinved, and had it not been for Milah's vice grip on his arm as she dragged him away, Emma was sure Killian wouldn't have gone. Like how he wouldn't have gone if he'd known about Henry. Killian was always beside her, putting her first.

"This work here is one of my favourites." Emma listened as the artist, Rumple (She hoped it was a fake name) a man with crimped dark blonde hair hanging to his chin and skin that looked golden, gestured to the work beside him. A picture of him, not at all surprisingly, dressed in scaley leather behind what looked like pointed bars of a cell, staring at the camera with creepy eyes and glitter skin. "How to articulate that transient moment when you see something through the camera's eye. A little like love at first sight." Emma doubted that, but continued to listen, sipping her wine rather liberally, waiting for the 'numbing haze' as Jefferson had called it to finally settle. "Stops you in your tracks and suddenly you recognise it for exactly what it is."

"A load of bollocks." Emma had meant to say it under her breath, she really had, but maybe the alcohol was having more of an effect on her than she realised, making her voice far louder than she meant, the distasteful looks she was receiving from both Rumple, and his group of admirers was enough to send her packing. She downed the remainder of her wine and grabbed her coat from the table she had left it at before making her way as fast as possible out of the exhibit doors. She'd barely reached the pavement – or _side walk_ as Killian had taken to calling it – before she heard her name being called.

"Emma?" Killian called after her, and by the sound of his voice he was jogging to catch her up. "Emma, where are you going?"

"Back home." She called over her shoulder, but didn't stop her strides. She may not have known which way to go, but she could sure as hell figure it out. "And I mean England, this is too crazy for me. I've walked right into the middle of something here."

"Look," Killian said catching her around the elbow and turning her to face him. "Everything is fine. Honestly. Dr. Hopper and I just needed to air some stuff."

"Oh, good, I'm glad your fine. Because I'm not." Emma exclaimed, cringing at how hysterical he sounded. She didn't mean to, but all of her anger, frustration and stress was falling down on her like dead weight, and she needed it gone. "We were out together the whole night, Killian. And all the while your girlfriends at home expecting a baby. And you _didn't_ say."

"Like I said, you're hardly one to judge." His words weren't harsh, but they irritated Emma all the same. "Come on, Swan, nothing happened. We were just having fun." He reasoned.

"That's what you got me over her for, then? Just some fun?" she wrenched her arm form his and made to turn and leave again, but Killian's words stopped her.

"I wanted to see you, Swan. For Christ sakes, you're my best friend!"

"Or maybe you just needed someone from your old life to point out the truth." Emma hated referring to herself as a part of his old life, but that's all she was. He had a whole new life here, a life of quail eggs and art exhibitions, and deranged pregnant girlfriends. Emma wasn't sure just where or if she fitted in this life anymore.

"And whats the truth?" He asked and now he was annoyed. Emma was grateful, she wanted him to be as infuriated with this situation as she was. She wanted him to understand, something that didn't seem possible after he'd started this new life.

"You're a mess. Killian!" Emma exclaimed, watching the nerve in his jaw twitch as she clenched and unclenched his jaw. "This whole situation is just one big, giant, bloody mess!"

"Me? I'm in a mess?" Killian asked, his voice rising slightly. Now he was annoyed for sure.

"And you're in denial." Emma added.

"You're projecting." Killian said his words taking on a bite that Emma knew from years of arguments wasn't intentional. When Killian got frustrated he found it far harder to keep his emotions in check. Sometimes he'd say things he didn't mean, and sometimes he'd be far harsher that he'd meant to.

"Okay, can we just stop the psycho-babble, and talk like English people. Please." Emma said, running her hands through her hair. She was vaguely aware of people on the street staring, but she didn't care. People must argue on city streets all the time, its nothing that they couldn't be used to, she was sure.

"Fine." He spat, but his face dropped for a moment. "Fine, fine." He said, softer this time, clearly regretting the harshness of his words. "I was worried that you might find it hard, you know, coming here."

"Hard?" Emma had an inkling of where this conversation was going, and if it went that way then she wasn't going to be happy.

"Yeah, I mean, you've had a tough time, Emma. And seeing where we live, you know, our apartment, our lifestyle –"

"You thought I wa jealous!" Emma cut in, abashed that he would even consider such a thing. She'd had an inkling that he'd thought so, but for him to actually say it made the idea sound even more absurd. He levelled her with a look, telling her to tell him otherwise, and Emma obliged. "I pity you, Killian! All I see is someone compensating for a crap personal life by schmoozing his way up the career ladder."

"Crap – Crap personal life?" He sounded even more annoyed now than he had a moment ago, and she was glad. She wasn't going to let this conversation be pegged for her being over emotional. "Alright, lets see. Stable relationship with beautiful girlfriend, lots in common." He ticked off on his fingers. Emma scoffed, crossing her arms. Milah maybe be beautiful but she was anything but stable, her little trick at dinner had proved that, and Emma doubted they had that much in common either. "Great circle of friends." He added and Emma coudlnt begrudge him that. She'd met his friends and they had been great, but her firnds were great and her personal life stil wasn't all that great. His point proved nothing. "A kid on the way, who's going to have two parents, by the way. Not one."

Emma felt like he'd punched her, all of the wind gushing out of her lungs as she looked at the man before her – her best friend – like he was a stranger to her. She actually wished that he had punched her; that would surely have hurt less, and punches she knew how to deal with. When someone hit her, she hit back with equal, if not more, force. But this, his words, she had nothing, her mind was blank. There was no anger, no sadness, nothing. She felt numb to it, like her entire body had gone dead and she was just waiting for the pins and needles to kick in. She had nothing to say, nothing to counter. Emma knew how people looked at her, arrested and pregnant, having a child at barely eighteen, no father in the picture and no parents to support her. Poor little Emma the orphan, she was bound to turn out like this. But not Killian. Killian had never, _never,_ not believed in her. He'd never not stood by her, and now, knowing just what he thought of her, it was hurt more than Neal's betrayal ever could have done. It hurt more than knowing her parents didn't want her. Now that the shock hard worn off, his words just _hurt._ And so Emma did what she did best, she turned to leave.

"Come one, Emma, wait." Killian tried, but Emma wasn't hearing his apologies. He'd made himself clearer than crystal.

"Forget it, Killian!" Emma shouted, feeling her face heat and her eyes sting. She tried to force the tears back, but it wasn't pointless, the spilled out anyway. At any other time, she'd forgive him just because of the broken, crushing look of regret on his face. But not this time. Killian had a crossed a line that Emma had thought had been drawn since the day they had met. He'd bounded over it and told her straight up, in so many words, that Emma had failed. "Go ahead and climb your greasy pole."

"You know what, I will." He said, clearly trying to combat her hurt with his own. It was pintles, and Emma was sure Killian knew it.

"Just don't come whinging to me when you realise you're empty inside."

"No danger of that!" He shouted because Emma was walking away, putting as much distance between them as she could.

"Good." She called back over her shoulder, not daring to look at his face. She as hurting enough as it was.

"Excellent!"

"Fantastic!" She faintly heard him as he groaned and was sure he'd be tugging at his hair, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him, not now, not after what he'd said. And so she kept walking, even after she heard his fist collide with the metal phone booth they'd been arguing outside. And for the first time in a very long time, Emma felt like nothing more than the lost little girl she'd been all those years ago, crying and alone in a foreign country with nowhere to go.

* * *

 **Nothing beats a good old bit of angst.**

 **This scene was obviously in the film, and despite how intense it is, it's actually one of my favourites. I really suggest you watch it (And the entirety of Love, Rosie for that matter)**

 **Let me know your thoughts!**


	10. But In Time Our Feelings Will Show

**So, I'm actually far better at this update schedule than I thought I would be!**

 **Let me know what you think of the chapter!**

* * *

 _"I can remember the good old days,_  
 _Where you and me, we used to hide away_  
 _Where the stars were shining or the sun was blinding our eyes"_

 _\- Talk, Kodaline_

* * *

The following day Emma was finally home. After leaving Killian at the art exhibit she'd done her best to remember the way back, finally calling it quits about twenty minutes in and calling a taxi to take her. She didn't think she'd every packed a bag so aggressively in her entire life, swinging it over her shoulder and heading straight for the airport, no goodbye, nothing.

Waiting for a plane had been fun, the ticket Killian had given her not being valid until the flight the following day. But Emma was too stubborn and too proud to go back to the apartment to wait, and too poor to even try and afford a hotel room. And that was how she'd spent the night at the airport, legs pulled up on one of the cool metal benches, her bag as a pillow and her leather jacket as a blanket. It wasn't ideal, but Emma had definitely been in worse situations growing up. A particular memory of sleeping on a bus stop bench when she was fourteen came to mind, but she shook it away. Killian had been the one to find her that night, and she didn't like the idea of thinking of him in a positive light at all right now.

The anger had faded away around hour three at the airport and Ema felt the crippling weight of what he'd really said pushing down on her heart. She wasn't even sure how she was supposed to have reacted because he hadn't just attacked her. They had attacked her son too, however indirectly. Emma wasn't sure if parents were supposed to even get this angry when something like this was said about their child having never had a parent be protective of her, but to hear the words fall from Killian's mouth, of all the people. She'd trusted him with everything, he was Henry's Godfather, and yet he'd said it. Emma didn't even care if he felt bad about his words or if he stood by his outburst even now. She just wanted to get home, to pick up her son and then sleep for a month.

Killian had made it clear, there was no room for Emma and her bastard son in his new life. Emma just had to come to terms with that.

She'd finally gotten back home early Monday morning, early enough that everyone who was normal was asleep. Luckily for Emma, Ruby wasn't normal, and her yellow bug was waiting for her when she made her way out of the airport. Ruby had asked what had happened, of course, but Emma had deflected every question, ignoring every sympathetic glance, decided to focus on staring out of the window while Ruby drove them insistently back home.

They'd parted ways at Granny's Diner, Emma to pick up her son from David and Mary-Margret's and Ruby to go back to her flat.

It had been far easier to handle Emma's grief when she was alone at her own home, surrounded by her own possessions, her son sleeping soundly in his own room. This flat was familiar territory, with its bare brick walls and rumbling old fridge covered in Henry's drawings and a few photographs Emma hadn't had the time to frame. Despite the desire to rip them down and burn them, she left the ones of her and Killian up. For a reminder if nothing else. It was then she realised that she still had his ring hanging from a chain around her throat. She'd meant to give it back of course, if not to Killian then at least to Liam. But now, she'd taken it back with her, and now all it did was remind her that perhaps she had lost Killian now.

Tipping out the contents of her handbag, Emma had meant to return all her documents to a safe place, her passport to the kitchen drawer and her dollars ready to be exchanged at the earliest possibility. Instead, her hand gripped a piece of now slightly crumpled paper. Unfolding it, she saw Henry's drawing. The one of Henry with Emma and Killian, their little family. Aside from David who had really been more of fun uncle, Killian had been the closest thing to a father figure that Henry had. True, he was half a world away and barely ever visited anymore, but when he did, Killian made a point of spending as much time with Henry as possible. They even skyped now, Henry shooing Emma out of the room to talk alone with his Godfather. Emma didn't even know if that would happen anymore. She wasn't the only one who had lost Killian now, Henry had too.

With a spark of thought, Emma grabbed her laptop, dragging the old, battered computer towards her as she began typing. This was a stupid idea, Emma knew, but somehow, it seemed like a good one. Henry may have lost a father figure, but that didn't mean Emma couldn't find his father.

After what felt like hours of searching, prying into emails and googling as much as she could possibly imagine, Emma had something. And address. A London address. So he was in the country, and judging by the google maps search she'd done on his house, he wasn't doing so bad either.

Grabbing a spare piece of paper, Emma scribbled a quick letter, trying to explain the situation as much as possible, telling Neal just what had happened and them, after folding the drawing and placing the two pieces of paper into an envelope, Emma wrote the address over the front.

She'd posted it by the following morning.

* * *

It had been a couple of days being back in England before Emma went back to work, not only because she still had the time booked off, but because Ruby had decided to tell Granny Lucas about everything, the older woman insisting Emma take some time to let her 'wounds' heal. Emma thought it was a load of bollocks, but she wasn't going to say no to a day with her feet up watching the tele. There had been no word from Killian, no email, no text and not a single phone call. Emma didn't know whether she felt hurt or relieved by that. Liam had tried to call a few times, and he'd text her asking if she was okay, but Emma hadn't responded. She didn't want to deal with either of the Jones brothers right now, knowing whatever she said about Killian, Liam would defend. They were brothers, the only family the other had. They would manage without her.

Mary-Margret had opted to take Henry to school with her that morning, allowing Emma to take the opening shift at the diner since Ruby was not a morning bird. In fact, Emma had a fond memory of the girl threatening to bite David's head off if he dared open the curtains any time before noon.

Emma was putting the wooden sign out on the street when she heard someone call her name. Looking up, she saw the owner of the voice and her eyes widened.

"Oh, crap." She said, watching as Neal crossed the silent road towards her, his plaid jacket, a dark grey beanie pulled over his dusty brown hair, but Emma could see the ends as they curled beneath it. He looked well, Emma thought, cursing that she was stood in the street wearing her waitressing uniform, the white apron very distinguished against the red skirt she had to wear.

"Hey, Em." He said standing opposite her, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He'd gotten her letter and he'd come. Emma didn't know whether to hug him or slap him. Both options felt rather appealing, but the slap more so.

"What are you doing here?" She settled for asking, still disbelieving that he was standing before her, scratching his stubbled jaw as he looked her over. She didn't miss how he eyed the apron she was wearing.

"I got your letter." He said and Emma felt the lump in her throat at his slightly accusatory gaze. Not telling Killian about Henry had been one thing, he was just her best friend, but not telling Neal, that was a little different. Neal was Henry's father, anyone with eyes could see it, Henry looked a lot like his father, with the same dusty brown hair and dark eyes. Emma had been a little gutted about that.

"I sent that on a whim," Emma said hastily, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. She'd been emotional that night, emotional and tired and she'd found him. And now he was here and Emma had no idea what she was supposed to do. "I never thought you'd show up."Neal scoffed a little at that and Emma could definitely have slapped him for that.

"It made me think, Em, about you and everything that happened," he said and Emma's jaw tightened. Everything that had happened, like Neal stealing a couple of case of watches and letting Emma take the fall when he was caught. Letting Emma get arrested before disappearing like a ghost. "why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address as you let me take your fall." She spat and saw the guilt cross over his face. That was new. Emma didn't know how to deal with others peoples guilt not at all. Her own, sure, she could run and bury that on a beach somewhere and let the tide drag it out until she didn't have to deal with it anymore. But looking at Neal's apologetic face,his hands twitching slightly despite the smile he was wearing, that wasn't so.

"I knew they'd go easy on you." He said like it made perfect sense, his voice reasonable. "You didn't have any past offences so I figured they'd be lenient."

"And that's supposed to make it all okay?" She spat, decided that slapping him was definitely the more attractive of her options. This shock of his appearance had sieved away, leaving nothing but an anger that she already had kindled from his weekend with Killian to blaze up through her veins, setting her body on fire.

"No, it doesn't." He said, seeing as Emma turned to walk away, she'd barely made it to the wooden steps of the diners 'porch' before he continued calling after her. "I want to meet him, Emma. I am his dad."

"Dad?" She spat, turning around and facing him. He'd followed after her, not that she hadn't expected him to, but he didn't make a move to go any further than his foot on the bottom step. "And what precisely makes you think you qualify for that title?" She was being a bit harsh now, she knew, but she also didn't care. He'd left her, abandoned her for his own selfish gain. Yes, she'd kept Henry a secret from him, but she hadn't thought him worthy of knowing their son, and he didn't even leave a trace for her to follow in order to find him. "Where were you when I was arrested for your crime." She spat again, poking him hard in the chest. To his credit, he didn't waver. "Where were you, Dad, when he was up every night with colic for the first few months. Or lost his first tooth. Or took his first steps."

"I get it, Em, I bailed on you." He said, holding his hands up in defence. Emma knew people were begging to stare and if she turned around now she didn't doubt Granny had her nose to the glass, watching for any signs of drama. Should things escalated, Emma knew that the old woman had a crossbow hidden beneath the counter, and she didn't doubt the woman knew how to use it. "I'm sorry. But there's not been a day in the last five years where I haven't missed you, or wondered what your life was like." His tone was so soft, his eyes so sincere that Emma was beginning to wonder if slapping him would in fact do her any good. It might help her get the anger out of her system, but Neal seemed insistent about this, more so than Emma had seen him with anything else. "And now that I know about him I can't stop wondering what he's like. Does he look like me?" Emma bit her tongue at that because he did, he really did, with the same dusty brown hair and chocolate eyes, it was hard to see Henry as anyone else's son. "Is he smart, is he as stubborn as his mother."

"You are so full of shit," Emma said, spinning on her heel and stalking into the diner, grateful that the early morning rush of people buying coffee before work was still yet to begin. Even Granny was yet to hide away in her kitchen, ready for the regulars with their full English breakfasts and bacon sandwiches.

"You've got to give me a chance, Emma," Because why wouldn't he follow her inside. And he had the audacity to call her the stubborn one. Granny was eyeing them from behind the counter, one grey eyebrow raised as she watched the still young adults squabble in the diner like teenagers. "I'm not the same guy I was. I can be better." Emma gritted her teeth, and she knew that Neal caught it. He was perceptive, that she couldn't deny. "What? Do you want me to crawl on my hands and knees? Because I'll do it." Emma didn't doubt that he would, she could see the determination in his eyes as he studied her face. "If that's what it takes to meet my son."

"Look," Emma said, her voice sounding far harsher than she meant, but she also didn't find the strength to care. "If this were about me I'd be kicking your arse right out into the street." She said, pointing out of the diner's front window for good measure. Neal smirked slightly, but it was harmless.

"Yeah, I wouldn't blame you."

"One chance." She burst out, not quite convinced herself if this was a good idea. "You get one chance, but any mess ups and you're out." He nodded his agreement, but Emma wasn't done yet. "And you'd better be nice. And I don't mean average nice either. I mean Father Christmas, Easter Bunny, Tom Hanks all rolled into one nice!" He chuckled slightly at that, and Emma knew Granny's stare was burning through the back of her head, yet she kept going. "And you will buy him the most expensive pair of shitty, flashing, light up shoes you can find."

"I'm going to Google them right now." Neal said, smiling at Emma like she'd just given him the world, and perhaps she had. Her world at least.

"I have tomorrow off. Go to the loft, I'll meet you there." She said bluntly and Neal nodded his agreement, taking her dismissal for what it was. He gave her one last, gratitude filled smile before slipping out of the diner, the small bell above the door dinging in time with his exit.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Granny asked knowingly, but Emma just sighed, running her fingers through her still slightly knotted hair. No, she wasn't sure. But she wasn't about to admit that.

* * *

Emma wasn't sure why she'd been surprised by Neal's appearance at the loft the following day, shopping bag in hand and a broad smile on his face. Perhaps she'd hoped it was all a dream, that she hadn't found him living the high-life in London and she hadn't sent him Henry's drawing. Him being here was going to throw a spanner in the works of her quaint little life and she knew it. But Henry, he could have both of his parents, something that both Emma and Neal had been without in their childhood. She couldn't have him growing up like that, a child needed their parents, no matter what the system said.

Henry, however, was more than thrilled about the situation and had taken to Neal like a duck to water. If the shoes that he'd been bought by his father weren't enough to win him over, then the offer to take Henry out for the day certainly was. Emma had been sceptical at first, not knowing what it was that Neal had planned, but she'd gone along with it simply because Henry was ecstatic about the chance to spend a day with his mother and father.

They'd all bundled into Neal's car that morning, Emma riding shotgun with the same level of scepticism she'd been bristling with since Neal had arrived at Granny's the previous day. Neal's intentions may be good, but that didn't mean that he was the best thing for her son, biologically his father or not.

"The beach?" Emma asked as Neal pulled into a car park overlooking what Emma was sure to be a pier. The drive hadn't been long, under an hour at most, and Henry had spent the entire drive staring excitedly out of the window and chatting as animatedly as the five-year-old could with Neal. Emma, however, had sat in stony silence, monitoring Neal's words to Henry like a hawk. Sh wasn't sure if she wanted him to mess up with Henry or not. She couldn't decide what she wanted more, her cosy life with her son, or Henry's father to be there for him. By the excited shout Henry gave to the sight of the beach below them, Emma was close to making up her mind. Henry came first, he would always come first. No matter what or who that may entail being in the picture.

"You love the beach." Was all Neal said, smirking at Emma over his shoulder as he climbed from the driver's seat, ready to let an ecstatic Henry out of the back. Emma didn't know what bothered her more, the fact that Neal had made the assumption about her, or the fact that he was right."Okay, Buddy," Neal said once they were all out of the car. "Wanna see something cool?" It was a stupid question really, Henry was always looking for something cool, but the little boy nodded excitedly all the same. Neal beamed for a moment before standing back up and popping the boot. Henry's face lit up at the sight inside, especially when Neal lifted the box labelled 'Remote Control Helicopter'.

Clearly Neal had bought Henry more than just shoes.

"Kids like that sort of thing, right?" Neal asked unnecessarily, looking up to where Emma stood, arms crossed over her chest. He was beaming up at her like the cat that got the cream, and with Henry's excited questions of who go the fly it and how filling her ears, she was finding it really hard not to smile back.

Neal was good with Henry, as in really good. So good in fact, it was hard for Emma to convince people that Neal had not in fact been in the picture long. As days became a week and a week quickly turned into a month, Emma found herself longing for the days that she and Neal would take Henry out somewhere together.

They did everything they could possibly think of doing without boring the poor boy. One weekend they'd go to the park, the next out for a 'family' meal, as Neal was calling it, the next they'd go to the cinema. It was near perfect, Emma thought. Henry was happy, Neal was happy and as much as Emma really wanted to deny it, she was happy.

It wasn't long before Emma admitted to herself that she was enjoying their routine, and once she did, it was too late to turn back as she pushed her and Neal's friendship even further.

They'd gone to the beach again, this time with Emma driving since Neal was complaining about getting sand in the car, something Emma noted to memory in case she felt the urge to piss him off at any point. She'd seen the way Neal had eyed the bug, its bright yellow paint a very bright reminder of their teenage years knowing one another, of days spent doing nothing but driving around and nights that they spent doing other more enjoyable activities in the back seat. This car held one hell of a lot of memories.

It was meant to just be a normal day out, simple and uncomplicated. But then Neal had said something offhanded, something that when Emma looked back on she couldn't even remember. All she knew was this his words made her heart ache and her skin tingle. That feeling had stuck with her even as the words dissipated into the air. And so, when Neal had carried and already sleeping Henry back to the bug, the evening sky dark above their heads, Emma had decided to be bold.

Once Henry was tucked in the back seat, his safety belt on and Neal had moved to let Emma back into the driver's side, she'd made one snap decision that had changed everything. Grabbing a fistful of Neal's shirt, she'd dragged his body towards her, swallowing the confused sound he made with her lips crashing against his.

It was like she'd been plunged underwater, her entire body floating soundlessly as he returned the kiss, half pushing her back against the yellow bug as his hand snaked its way over her hip, holding her closer as her arms wrapped around his neck. She felt seventeen again, the worst of her worries being what grades she would get on her final English exam. She was young and free, kissing the boy she'd loved before she was even old enough to know what love meant. The same boy who had abandoned her, the same boy that somehow, in her aching heart she had found the room to forgive.

It was needless to say that just as soon as they were in her flat, Henry sound asleep in his own bed, that the two adults had proceeded to partake in some more enjoyable activities in Emma's bedroom.

* * *

"Wait a minute," Ruby said, turning away from the coffee machine behind the counter to look at where Emma sat at the counter, her cocoa sat in front of her as she toyed with the whipped cream on top. "You did what?" Ruby sounded scandalised, but if Emma knew her friend at all, she knew Ruby was revelling in this gossip as she did with everyone else. Emma didn't bother to repeat herself, Ruby knew exactly what had happened with Emma and Neal the night before, and she knew exactly what Emma was feeling about the entire situation. "This is this man who knocked you up and left you to get arrest for his crimes."

"He's Henry's dad." Emma reasoned, but Ruby just clicked her tongue, turning back to her abuse of the coffee machine that was still yet to jump start itself. It was Emma's day off and she'd promised that she'd leave Henry and Neal to have some father and son bonding while she ran errands. Apparently, those errands meant clueing Ruby in on her current sex life. The woman had known the moment she'd seen Emma that something had changed. Ruby called it her sixth scent, Emma just assumed Ruby had heard them through the walls the way Emma often heard Ruby and whichever partner she'd brought home for the night, male or female. "You should see his little face light up when he walks in the room. They're really bonding." Ruby levelled her with a knowing look, the kind that said 'I-Can-See-Through-You-Bullshit', something Emma had grown very accustomed to over the past five years of friendship with the outspoken brunette. "It also doesn't hurt that he's worked on his physique since I last saw him."

"You're evil, Emma Swan," Ruby said, but her words held no bite, just the same wolfish grin that Emma had grown to know meant Ruby approved. She allowed herself a swell of pride at that.

"I just want something real, Ruby," Emma said, pushing aside her barely touched grilled cheese as she spoke. "I'm tired of waiting. And it feels good with him. We're a family."

Months passed from that day and life ran its course. For Emma, that meant making big decisions, discovering new feelings and most of all, answering big questions. Everything moved so fast and so incomprehensible that Emma almost forgot about the dispute between her and Killian. _Almost_.

It came, therefore, as quite a surprise for Killian to arrive home one night from Liam's, the apartment empty of Milah, and Killian's post sat on the dining room table. Shuffling through bills and various other letters of little importance, he felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the small, A5 white envelope with his name scrawled across the front in a painfully familiar handwriting. He'd know it anywhere having helped Emma with more homework than he'd ever done on his own, or watching her jot down notes in one of her journals, just waiting for them to become stories. He was certain he could fall in love with that handwriting, and seeing it now, for the first time in however many months since they'd last spoken was a breath of fresh air.

He'd not heard from Emma at all, not once. She'd not text him or called him and, truth be told, he couldn't blame her. Never in his lifetime of knowing Emma Swan had he ever seen her so hurt and betrayed by the words of another. She was strong, durable and able to weather the harshest of storms, and she'd been reduced to tears by just a few simple words from his mouth. He'd royally fucked things up, this time, he knew, even Liam had told him so. It seemed Emma wasn't just ignoring him anymore.

But she'd written to him, he held hat was likely her words in his hand and he'd never felt so excited to read a letter in his life. Tearing open the envelope he felt his heart leap into his throat as he pulled out the small white card trimmed at one edge with gold ribbon, the words _'Wedding_ _Invitation'_ written across the front in looping, black script. That certainly wasn't Emma's handwriting.

With now surprisingly trembling fingers, Killian flipped the invite open, his breath catching as he saw the photograph – clearly a new one – pasted onto the first page. It was Emma, her face unmistakable and lit up in a radiant smile, the sky blue behind her as she stood on what seemed to be a beach, her blonde hair blowing lightly in the wind, but not over her face. It was the person with his arms around her waist, nose brushing hers as he too smiled that set Killian's hairs on end. Neal, of all the bloody people, Emma was getting married to Neal. He supposed it made sense, with Neal being Henry's father and Emma having loved him before but what Killian didn't understand is how they'd gone from runaway boyfriend who leaves behind pregnant girlfriend to get arrested, to happy couple engaged to be married. It didn't make any sense. Unless, and Killian truly prayed it wasn't the case, Emma had sought him out after their fight, if his words had truly hit home hard enough to send her searching for Henry's other parent. Killian wasn't exactly proud of himself on a good day, but right now, reading over the invitation before him, he was just about ready to punch himself.

 _Emma and Neal_ , It read, _Would like to invite you to save the date, 21st March 2009._

She'd invited him, Killian knew she would have been the one to do so. She was reaching out and he could already feel himself pulling away. Killian loved her, he truly did, she was some of the only family that he had left in this world, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even without thinking it through he knew that he couldn't bare to watch Emma Swan marry the man who had abandoned her, knowing there was nothing in any of the seven hells that he could do to stop it. But he couldn't leave her either. She'd made the first step, she'd reached out the olive branch and it was his choice what to do. He needed to decide to accept her life or not.

* * *

"Can you just stop pacing for one second." Ruby said, smoothing out the front of her pale green bridesmaid dress. Emma was grateful for Ruby at least ninety percent of the time, but now was not one of them. She was getting married, Emma Swan was getting married. The girl who had sworn off of love was marrying the very same made that had made her think love was impossible. This was actually happening, right now and Emma was terrified.

She'd spent the better part of her time in the church hall pacing, always peeking through the small gap in the arch doorway to peek through at the wedding turn out. There weren't many people, granted, neither Emma or Neal had all that much family. But Neal had managed to find his father in London, something Emma soon learnt was the reason he'd left for there, who had in turn brought a small amount of extended family with him. And then Emma, well, Emma had her small gaggle of friends for support.

"I just want to make sure everyone is here."

"Everyone being who exactly?" Ruby asked and Emma shot her an exhausted glance. She knew exactly who Emma was looking for, but that particular head of dark hair wasn't visible, at least not through this view. She'd not heard back from Killian, so she wasn't certain he was even coming, but she was hoping he would. She needed him on a day like today, a day where her life was about to change forever. The day she became Emma Cassidy, except for the fact that Emma had no intention of changing her name. It hadn't been the name she had been born with, that one still being unknown, but it was the one she intended to keep.

Just as Emma moved for one more glance through the crack in the door, the wood shifted as David burst through, dressed in his finest suit, a smile on his face the likes of which Emma had never seen.

"How's the blushing bride?" He asked, beaming down at Emma how she imagined a proud father would, and she supposed that's exactly how David felt, watching the tragic teenager he'd taken in all those years ago take yet another humongous step in her life. She had to smile at that.

"Like a caged animal," Ruby said, throwing up her hands dramatically. Emma was certain that Ruby had plenty more to say, but was saved by the sound of the organ echoing throughout the church. Ruby's face lit up, her eyes scanning Emma once more for any tiny little thing out of place. Re-adjusting a curl of hair here, smoothing out the skirt of her ivory chiffon dress there, even going to far as to push up to the bodice of Emma's strapless dress to give her more cleavage. Something neither Emma nor David seemed over pleased with. Ruby just winked once before passing Emma her yellow buttercup based boutique and disappearing out of the door, meeting with the other bridesmaids that consisted of Mary-Margret and Belle, someone Emma had grown rather close to since Mary-Margret had incorporated her into their little group. Emma had never expected it to happen, not with how Emma and Tink's friendship had remained non-existent. But as it turned out, Belle and her cousin were (thankfully) nothing alike.

"Don't' take this the wrong way, Emma," David began, his hands holding onto Emma's shoulders as she fussed with her veil, pinned expertly by Mary-Margret into Emma's half up – half down braided crown hairstyle, enough of her blond curls left hanging down her back to tickle her shoulder blades. "But if there is any part of you that isn't sure, even now, just say the word and we'll walk straight out of here with our heads held high.

"So you like Neal then?" Emma asked instead, joking mingled in with the nervousness in her voice. If she was being honest with herself, something she was getting increasingly bad at doing lately, she'd admit that David's offer to turn and run was sounding very appealing. She had already gulped down four flutes of champagne, it really wouldn't take much to convince her to go now, even with all the disapproving glances Mary-Margret would undoubtedly shoot her.

"Let's go and get you hitched," David said and Emma felt herself nodding, her jaw steeled as she looped her arm through the crook of his and allowed him to escort her towards the ceremony, towards her future husband, and towards the rest of her life.

Walking down the aisle had gone far smoother than Emma would ever have expected. Everyone was stood, watching her with wide open smiles. The pews weren't overly full on either side, but Emma couldn't find it in herself t care. Between all the green and yellow banners, the bright flowers and the gentle music, all Emma could even note about her wedding ceremony was the empty space in the pew beside Liam and his girlfriend, Elsa.

Liam offered her a soft, reassuring smile, and she knew that he must have done all he could par dragging Killian kicking and screaming onto the plane to get him here. She was grateful for that, at least. Returning both Liam and Elsa's smiles she turned back to the main event, her wedding, and her fiancé waiting at the alter for her. Was it still too late to run, Emma wondered just before David passed Emma over and the wedding was officially underway.

The party that followed the wedding had been a far more enjoyable affair for Emma, being able to dance in the ballroom of the hotel of Emma and Neal' last school dance, the yellow and pale green colour scheme covering the room. That, mixed with the small candled lanterns that Mary-Margret had insisted upon and the entire ballroom seemed transformed into an enchanted forest. Fairy lights hung from every corner and yellow flowers dotted every surface. I was almost perfect, Emma thought. _Almost._

"Mind if I cut in?" A voice asked, and Emma turned away from her frankly awful dancing with David to instead face Liam. It didn't take much discussion before David passed her over and Liam took Emma off into another dance. It was comfortable, she thought, reminding her of the time she'd danced at Anna and Kristoff's wedding with Killian, right before everything went to shit with their friendship. "He was going to come, you know. He promised me actually."

"Well, he didn't promise me," Emma replied, smiling up at Liam as convincingly as she could. "I get it if he doesn't want to be here. But would it have killed him to tell me?" Liam sighed to that, had his hands not been full as he danced with Emma, she was sure he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose right now.

"He'd got a lot going on right now, Emma, stuff I'm sure he'll explain to you." Emma didn't want to talk about Killian, not today on what was supposedly the happiest day of her life. So after humming her agreement with Liam, she changed the subject.

"So, Elsa?" Emma asked, nodding towards the platinum haired woman who was talking with Mary-Margret, her pale blue dress caressing the backs of her knees.

"Aye, Elsa." He replied with a bright smile. It reminded Emma f her childhood, of days running around the park and of Killian. But today wasn't the day to think about Killian. Today was her day of happiness.

"Are you two serious?"

"I'd like to think so. She's amazing, Emma," Liam said, his eye wandering to where Elsa was laughing to something undoubtedly bizarre that David had said. "I'd go so far as to say she's magical."

"I'm glad you're happy," Emma said, her smile as bright a she thought it would go, but Lam's brow furrowed and she knew that he was going to ask her, press her for answers in the way she hated to be pressed.

"Are you happy, Emma?" He asked, words full with unmentioned meaning. She opened her mouth to say yes, to say she was overjoyed, the happiest that she'd ever been, but the words caught in her throat. She knew that Liam caught it, his eyes brimming with sympathy. Thankfully, Emma was saved the trouble of expanding at all on what was said by a voice at her earlobe.

"Ready to go?" Neal said, his words sending a shiver down her spine. With a smile, Emma said her goodbyes, first to Liam, then to Elsa and other random guests, and finally to David, Mary-Margret, Ruby and Henry. It was time for her to begin the new chapter in her life, and if today meant she'd have to do so without Killian by her side, then so be it.


	11. I'd Like To Blame It All On Life

**Yay, update. I went to MCM ComicCon in London yesterday and it was sooooo good! I saw a few great Emma Swan cosplays and even met the cast of Being Human :D**

 **I know a lot of you have had questions about the timing between these chapters and the events that happen and I'm hoping that this chapter will clear them up for you.**

 **If not, never be afraid to ask, my inbox is quite literally always open :)**

 **Let me know what you think!**

* * *

 _"Come back when you can._  
 _Let go, you'll understand._  
 _You've done nothing at all to make me love you less._  
 _So come back when you can"_

 _\- Come Back When You Can, Barcelona_

* * *

The first thing that Emma realised about being married was just how much her family dynamic was going to change. Sure, she and Neal had dived backwards into this relationship, first with a baby, then getting married before even thinking about moving into together, but that didn't make it any less strange when she began to pack her and Henry's lives into cardboard boxes, ready to take them to the new house just three streets away from the loft.

It was a real family home, something Emma had never expected to have in her lifetime. Sure, the loft was home to her, but it was an apartment where the only walls were used to separate the bathroom to create a semblance of privacy, otherwise it was just a large room with some curtains to separate David and Mary-Margret's bedroom, and some steps and banister to separate hers. Teenage Emma had found the loft to be a dream, grown up Emma, however, had her heart set on this house.

It wasn't enormous, neither Emma working at the diner nor Neal working in an office being able to afford anything ridiculous, but it was cosy with two reasonable sized bedrooms and even a smaller spare one. Even Emma couldn't disagree with Mary-Margret when she noted how perfect a nursery the smaller room would be, but Emma wasn't quite ready to think about that, focusing instead on carrying labelled boxes from the back of David's pickup truck up the two flights of stairs that the house, for whatever reason, required.

It barely took an hour for all of Emma's stuff to be moved. Since she wasn't the sentimental type she barely had three small boxes of worldly possessions and a couple of boxes with trivial things like books and framed photographs of her son and, of course, her baby blanket, but otherwise it was all stuff she'd be perfectly willing to leave behind. The thought was somewhat comforting when she began to unload Henry's boxes, chock-a-block full with toys and books and pretty much everything the five-year-old could have ever needed out of life.

Emma nearly tripped on the last step when she felt her phone buzzing away in the pocket of her jeans. Passing the box full of kitchen utensils to Neal where he was stood in their new kitchen, Emma tugged her old, battered phone from her pocket and looked at the caller ID.

 _Incoming call – Killian Jones._

The wedding had been over two weeks ago. The wedding that she had asked him to come to. The wedding he had missed. She knew it wasn't fair to be this bitter over their situation, they'd both said hurtful things and they'd both let the other down. All she wanted was an explanation, but she wasn't interested in his excuses, and something told her that Killian would have a large list of them. So, instead, she rejected the call, leaving her phone on silent sitting atop the kitchen counter as she headed back down the stairs to move in the rest of Henry's belongings and make up his room.

She would call Killian, she really would, but not yet. She wasn't ready to hear his voice just yet, not when her life was finally getting back on track. She found, with a jolt, that she was happy with her life at the moment but then she remembered what Liam had said at the wedding, that Killian was going through a rough patch. He hadn't elaborated, and she knew he wouldn't, but her friend _did_ need her, even if she was still feeling a little bitter over her wedding and the noticeable lack of his presence.

Yes, she would definitely call him.

* * *

Emma had strangely begun to think that perhaps married life suited her. She'd stopped taking the opening shift at the diner, leaving it to Ruby and her grandmother so that Emma could have some real family time. She'd get up first in the mornings, wash and dress herself before rousing Neal, or at least, attempting to. Then she'd wake Henry and start getting him ready for school, making sure he was dressed, fed, with his teeth brushed and his homework done before she'd be carting him out of the door and away to school for the day. Not until after Neal gave him a hug of course, ruffling his hair before stealing a quick kiss from Emma as he got himself ready for his own job.

The nights would go similarly, Emma would leave her job at the diner around three to go and pick Henry up unless Neal finished early, in which case she could work a little longer, letting Neal and Henry have some father-son time, something she knew Henry adored. And then she'd be home and they'd cook dinner together, her and Neal, or they'd order a take-away and sit in the living room watching television as a family. It was the epitome of domesticity, and Emma couldn't find it in herself to hate it.

Weeks passed and she barely thought of Killian except for in passing, wondering just what it was he was struggling with and she promised – she really did – that she'd call him, but then Henry would call for her from downstairs to come and see his toy helicopter and then she would have to deal with the tears as he broke said toy helicopter, and Killian was pushed from her mind. She hated that it kept happening, but she couldn't seem to help it. It wasn't just Killian, either, Liam had taken a backseat in her life too, the two of them only managing to speak every once in a while when he or his finance, Elsa, would ring their home phone, by which point Emma had no choice but to answer.

It was two months into her marriage to Neal when Emma had finally decided to call Killian. She'd been getting ready for work on Saturday, her white, red striped blouse hanging open over her vest as she opened Henry's door to tell him that Neal was back and she was heading out. Obviously, Emma had forgotten that Henry had a friend round and burst in on him and Violet lying under a fort of blankets, his lamp shining through the material and bathing the room in red light, the sound of music beating through his headphones loud enough for her to hear.

"Mum!" He shouted, abhorred by the fact that she'd barged in on the two of them and Emma found herself smiling at her son and the girl beside him. She liked Violet, she was a sweet girl who lived with her father not far from where Emma and Henry lived, she'd even met the man on occasion when she was dropping off or picking up Henry from school, or they were making arrangement for his daughter to come over or vice versa. But that wasn't what had convinced Emma to pick up the phone and call to Boston. Truth be told, it had been the fort.

Emma had years' worth of memories in foster homes as a child, most of them rather tragic and full of hurt and sometimes even neglect, but not all of them. Some of them were the brightest days of her life, some of them were days where she and Killian had barricaded the door to her bedroom after collecting all the blankets and pillows they could find in the house before making a fort of their own in her mostly empty room. They'd tie sheets to the bunkbed, and stack pillows to hold it up as a ceiling, they'd lie in that fort for hours and let the world just pass them by.

It was only after Liam knocked for the millionth time that they finally relented their little haven, putting all the bedding back before promising to do the same the following weekend. And they did. It became a ritual of sorts, especially when the other was sad. Whenever Emma ran away from the foster home, she'd always return to see Killian had transformed his bedroom into a fort for the two of them, even going so far as to move the bedrooms old television inside and smuggling a box of pop tarts from god-knows-where. It had been perfect, and Emma felt like she wanted some of that perfection in her happy little life.

Half way into her shift at Granny's and Emma was released onto her break. Instead of sitting in the kitchen with Granny, the smell of chip fat filling her nostrils as she munched on some onion rings like she usually did, she snuck out into the old booking office that had once been used when the diner had doubled as a B&B, back in the days where B&B's could thrive at all away from a seaside town. The room was mostly empty save for a few filing cupboards that Emma had no idea of the contents, a battered old armchair she knew Granny used when she felt like knitting her stress away (hence the basked of wool sat beside it) and finally and old, spin dial phone on a corner table.

Emma dialled without thinking, her stomach swimming with butterflies as she heard the dial tone on the other end.

"Hello?" The female voice spoke at the other end of the phone and just like all butterflies, the sensation in Emma's stomach was short lived.

"Milah," Emma said, not really thinking what else to say. Hello would have made sense, as would just normal phone etiquette. But Emma couldn't, not with her. How she'd managed to forget about Milah was mystery. She was Killian's girlfriend – Killian's _pregnant_ girlfriend. Of course she'd be answering his home phone.

"Emma," Her voice was tight and Emma was hardly surprised. The last they'd spoken hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences, the entire meal Emma had sat through having been one hell of a rollercoaster. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Killian there?" No point beating around the bush. Milah would know that Emma wasn't calling for a catch up, not with the bitterness she'd held towards the other woman.

"Did he not tell you?" Milah asked and Emma felt her stomach flipping once more, this time far from pleasantly. Killian was keeping something from her – _again._

"Tell me what?" Emma asked tentatively, figuring there wasn't any point in not asking. She wanted to know what Killian wasn't telling her anyway.

"Killian and I separated."

"What?" Emma burst out and she could _feel_ Milah's disapproving glare down the phone. Little miss nutritional value probably had all kinds of bullshit conversation rules as well, Emma didn't doubt. "When?"

"About eight weeks ago. Pretty much the day of your wedding," Well that shut her up. Killian hadn't been at her wedding because, as Liam had said, he was going through a rough time. Emma could never have imagined the rough time would be him breaking up with his girlfriend (or her breaking up with him, but Emma liked to think Killian as the dumper, not the dumpee in this bunny boiling scenario). Emma barely had time to process the news before Milah gasped over the line. "Oh God," She said, voice slightly panicked and Emma found herself nosing in once more.

"What? What happened?"

"I think," Milah began, her voice high and a tiny bit squeaky, "my water just broke."

"Oh god," Emma echoed, remembering all too well what that sensation was like. "Are you sure you haven't just wet yourself?" It happened, Emma knew first hand. As, unfortunately, had David and Mary-Margret's sofa. She'd promised them a new one, of course.

"No I have not wet myself!" Milah sounded insulted and Emma didn't see why, it was a perfectly reasonable excuse. Somehow, between Milah picking up the phone and this moment, Emma had forgotten about the pregnancy, particularly around the time of hearing of their separation. Thinking back, it would be about now that Milah should be giving birth, it having been just over six months since she'd been in Boston. How time flies. "Where's Rumple?"

"Rumple?" Emma heard herself scoff into the phone, not having meant to sound as rude as she did. "The artist?" Her memories of the strange, golden skinned man had not been pleasant, particularly after the moment that Emma had insulted his work, calling it 'a load of bollocks'. No, Emma had not liked that man.

"Oh God," Milah's voice spoke down the phone and Emma felt like she was intruding on what should a beautiful moment, but her nosy side was getting the better of her, so she didn't hang up. "Rumple! It's happening! The baby, it's coming!" Having established that Milah did in fact mean Rumple the artist, Emma hung up the phone, leaving the America's to their own business as her break leant towards its end.

The rest of her shift passed by in a quick, coffee smelling blur and before long she had pulled her coat on and was leaving the diner, her mind drifting to where ever the hell Killian was right now. She'd intended to ring his mobile once shew was home and had hers in her hand since she hated having the stupid thing at work. But then life had gotten in the way. Henry as begging for Violet to stay for tea which meant Emma making them something for tea that wasn't take out. Neal had greeted her with a quick kiss on the cheek that Emma then realised translated to a goodbye as he slipped past her out of the door and into the street below. Emma had let him go, figuring this would give her time to call Killian. But the house was a mess from Henry and Violet's day, toys all over the place, and there was washing to be done and dishes to be cleaned before she could even think about it.

It wasn't until that night when Neal had returned, Emma already in bed that she'd finally pulled her phone from the bedside table and turning it on. There were messages from Liam she'd missed over the weekend, but they could wait. Not wanting to risk rousing Neal, Emma decided on texting Killian first, on letting him know that she _was_ there for him, even if they were oceans apart.

 _Emma: Oh, Killian. If I'd known…_

She typed, her fingers quick over the worn down buttons. The numbers were barely visible anymore after what felt like a lifetime of use, her phone being older than Henry was, but she was so used to it that the idea of a new phone was a foreign thought to her.

 _Emma: By the way – RUMPLE?_

She added, figuring he'd give a better explanation than an in labour Milah ever would. Emma had no idea what the time was over in Boston, but Killian's reply had been instantaneous.

 _Killian: Milah was with him the whole time._

He wrote and Emma felt her heart break for the man who'd been her best friend. Who was she kidding? Killian would always be her best friend, no matter what separated them. She didn't want to question why that thought in no way reassured her.

 _Killian: Turns out he's the father._

 _Emma: Oh, Killian :(_

She typed because, if she was being honest, she didn't know what to say. Emma Swan didn't know how to comfort her own best friend and that hurt her more than Killian's news and the harshness of what this lie had become. Just over half a years ago she'd shouted at him about his crap personal life, and now it seemed it was all coming to pass.

 _Killian: It's okay. I wasn't ready to be a dad._

Even when she wasn't with him her lie detector was blaring in her mind. Emma had seen Killian with Henry, had seen how taken they'd been with one another. If Killian Jones was anything, Emma thought, it was father material, and it broke her heart to know he'd had his chance taken from him.

An ocean away and Killian Jones was stood in his old apartment, the one he and Milah had picked out years ago, ready to spend their life together, to have a future. But that was gone now. He unlocked his phone and read and then re-read Emma's most recent message, knowing it was way past the time for her to be in bed.

 _Emma: I'm here for you, Killian. I'll call you tomorrow?_

She'd said and Killian knew it wasn't a text that needed a reply. He'd waited weeks for her to call him, having been too much of coward to reach out to her, not after he'd denied her his presence at her own wedding. Taking a long drag on his beer, Killian cast his eyes once more to the room before him, the dual tone painted blue walls, light blue for the sky and darker for the ocean, ships sailing over their curved edged with birds flying in the sky. Elsa and her sister had painted the mural, a beautiful touch, Killian thought, to the nautical themed nursery he'd been working on. It wouldn't go to waste, at least, Killian thought. In however many hours Milah would return, son in her arms and the little lad would be laid to sleep in the crib that Killian had spent hours trying to assemble with Milah whittling in his ear the entire time.

Not ready to be a father. That is what Killian had to keep telling himself, even if it was the biggest lie he'd ever told.

* * *

5 Years Later:

Henry was growing up fast and it was scaring the crap out of Emma. He was only ten years old but he was acting so much older, at least, Emma thought so. Her life had regressed into a mass of over loud music and tantrums not easily fixed with the promise of sweets. Henry was still her boy, but he wasn't so little anymore. Perhaps she was over reacting slightly, ten wasn't that old, but all it did was remind her that the teenage years were on the horizon like a brewing storm.

As a teenager, Emma had been a handful. She'd skipped school frequently, run away from home, shoplifted and possibly most significantly, she had gotten pregnant. Of course that had all worked out for her, but not for her would be parents, David and Mary-Margret who had had to deal with her all the way. Of course, David and Mary-Margret would never admit to Emma being a troublemaker, even now when she was twenty-eight years old and living an adult life. No, instead they smiled before babbling about their next family event, namely their second child's – Ruth, in honour of David's mother – birthday in just over a week. She was going to be three and Emma had already picked out the perfect present as Godmother. She was also one of Leo's two godmother's of course, but his fifth birthday had been the previous December and it was spring now, April finally beginning to bloom.

Everything seemed to be falling into place for Emma Swan and her perfect little family. She and Killian were finally back to their best friend status, the two of them skyping _at least_ twice a week when they both had the time, what with Killian finally being a doctor and not having a lot of time on his hands and Emma – well, despite still working at the diner, Emma had finally set to work on writing her first book. It was an interesting idea, she thought, to warp and interlink traditional fairy tales, but she found it was working out just fine. Henry had helped her of course, telling her which characters were like which of their friends and then Ruby, Emma's other best friend, had become her personal illustrator, even drawing herself as were-wolf Little Red Riding Hood (Her idea, not Emma's). Everything was definitely as it should be.

Liam kept in touch more too, telling Emma all about how his life was married to Elsa. She was happy for the pair of them, she really was, even if she could barely conceal her envy that the two of them were going backpacking around the world together before they settled down properly to start a family as Elsa's sister, Anna, had. Emma had never had that chance, pregnant at eighteen tended to take those choices away from you a little bit and narrow your horizon's quite significantly. Not that Emma regretted a second of it, not when her son was the ideal child. Loud, thumping music aside.

"So, Liam and his wife have sold up to go backpacking while I get t stay at home nagging a ten-year-old about loud music," Emma said as she stood wiping down the counter at Granny's for the third time that morning. Clearly there was something in the air by the amount of people spilling their coffee on the work surface and then just walking away. "Can you get any further proof of how fucked up my life is." She said, mostly to herself, but she knew Ruby was listening, filing he nails beside the coffee machine in the mostly empty diner.

When the bell dinged above the diner door, Emma didn't bother to look up from what she was doing, even as she heard the distinctive click of high heels on the Diner floor. Ruby could deal with the customer after all, she'd not really done much else this morning other than tut about an argument she and her granny had had.

"Emma Swan," A surprised voice said, it's Australian accent unmistakable. That was when Emma looked up, her green eyes meeting the beautifully made up blue of Tatiana Bell's, Killian's ex-girlfriend from a lifetime ago.

"Tink!" Emma exclaimed, half dropping her cloth in an attempt to somehow make herself look, what? More successful? That was a joke compared to Tink, the new face of three TV shows in England and, if rumours were to be believed, casting in a new film based in America.

"You work here now?" Tink asked, her face broken into the wide, paparazzi's wet dream smile, her sunglasses holding her short, blonde hair out of her face and the cream floral dress she was wearing undoubtedly cost more than Emma's old apartment.

"I've just been taught how to do the bookings," Emma said, cursing just how proud of herself she sounded as she patted the large volume book beside her. She could her Ruby rolling her eyes at her, still annoyed that Granny had indeed decided to make Granny's a B&B once more, meaning Ruby could either live in a room of the B&B or get her own place, something the brunette was furious about. Hence the argument.

"Congratulations," Tink said, but Emma knew it was half-arsed, the woman eyeing the book and its mostly empty pages like it was alive and growling at her.

"But you, your success, it's amazing!" Emma exclaimed, cursing how much of a kiss-arse she sounded. Emma didn't like Tink, Emma had never liked Tink. Seeing her now, in all her expensive, designer leather handbag glory, smiling at Emma with her pink painted lips was enough to apparently make Emma forget her own name. And not in a good way.

"I've just flown in from Morocco and wanted to see this place again. Tomorrow I fly out again. Paris, New York, Boston, Chicago," She ticked off on her fingers and Emma couldn't help the twist in her stomach. Everyone shed known was making their way, quite literally, in the world, while Emma worked in the same diner she'd been going to since she was a teenager. "Complete nightmare."

"My heart bleeds," Ruby said, her voice calm but Emma, having known the girl for years, could feel its bite as plain as day. Tink turned to the wolfish brunette, seeing the distaste in the celebrity status old school friend already and knowing that Ruby was unlikely to roll over on this one, butted in.

"Boston? You should look up Killian." Her stomach twisted horribly after she'd realised just what she'd said, and going by the rolling eyed glare Ruby had sent her way, she understood. Killian wasn't a secret and certainly didn't belong to Emma, but somehow the idea of him and Tink reunited made her nauseous. Clearly, Ruby felt it too.

"Killian Jones," Tink said, smiling in nostalgia, even going so far as to bite her lip slightly, something Emma didn't take kindly to. "You two still keep in touch?"

"Of course," Emma said, cursing herself again. Now she sounded defensive of him. It was ridiculous. "He could do with a friendly face." She added. Now not only did she not sound defensive of him, she sounded encouraging, and that was the last thing that she felt.

"Great, I'll get his details off you later." She beamed, pushing her bag further up her arm. "Can I get a skinny caramel latte made with soy milk and on ice?" She said, turning now to Ruby who looked about ready to tear her head from her skinny little shoulders. Emma couldn't say she was objective to the scenario, but it would likely be bad for business. Not overly familiar with whatever drink she'd been asked to make, Ruby seemingly just three ice into a cup, added caramel syrup and latter ingredients before mixing it all together and adding in a straw. It didn't look terrible, but Emma would never drink it.

"That is how fucked up your life is." Ruby said, sidling up beside Emma at the counter while she watched Tink leave, swishing her bob length blonde hair out of her face as she pulled her sunglasses back down. Emma nodded her agreement. Somewhere, without her knowledge, her life had gotten royally fucked up and she didn't even know what she was supposed to do about it.

* * *

Across the ocean and later that day, Killian was alone in his new (ad of five years ago) apartment making himself some diner with what little he had in the cupboards, sipping on his strong, black coffee as he went about making some pasta dish Emma had taught him to make once. He knew it wouldn't be as good as hers, but he needed to eat something, and is reminded him of her. It reminded him of home.

Just when he was sure he was getting the meal along the right tracks, his phone rang. He recognised Elsa's number immediately, and pick it up, jamming the receive between his shoulder and his ear as she continued to stir what he hoped was cheese sauce. He'd added the ingredients and mixed them together, but didn't believe for a second he'd done it right.

"Elsa, how's Nice?" He asked conversationally, wooden spoon in hand. He'd been expecting the call to be from Liam, his brother having promised to check in regularly during his backpacking adventure abroad. Killian would be jealous if he'd had the time, but with four years left of his residency to become a surgeon, he really didn't. He was amazed he even had the time to cook his dinner, usually opting to eat out or order a pizza. "Have you found and good places to eat yet?" Killian laughed slightly at this, watching the concoction that was his dinner lowly beginning to form.

He froze when he heard sobbing over the phone. Elsa didn't sob, as far as Killian knew, Elsa didn't even cry. She'd been dry eyed at both her sister's and her own wedding, even after some amazing speeches from friends and family. Killian was yet to see her cry, but hearing her now, her voice illegible through her sobs, it was heart wrenching to hear.

"Elsa, are you alright?" He asked, quite unnecessarily, lowering his wooden spoon back into the saucepan as she tried t distinguish what it was Elsa was trying to say. He wasn't sure he even wanted to hear it. "Elsa, what is it?" He heard her sobbing through the words _'bad news'_ , but was still yet to hear was it was. "Elsa," he began, his own voice breaking as the panic began to settle in. Killian knew there was only one real reason she would be calling him in this state and it wasn't something he'd ever thought possible. "Elsa, what is it," He said once more, sounding more forced than he'd have hoped.

" _It's Liam,_ " Elsa sobbed through the line and Killian gripped the counter behind him, his knuckled white from the strain of it. _"There was an accident and he,"_ She broke off again, crying through the phone, the sounds of people rushing around behind her told Killian she wasn't backpacking on a mountain like they were supposed to be. If Killian had to guess, he'd say they were in a hospital. The thought alone chilled his blood drastically. " _Liam didn't make it."_

Killian didn't know when he'd dropped his phone, just that he could still hear Elsa's sobbing, just from further away, the sound muffled by the space. And then he was on the floor, his dinner forgotten as he sat with his back against the cupboard and his head in his hands.

He should talk to Elsa, console her in this horrible time. He should phone people and tell them, save Elsa the trouble. Gods, he'd have to phone Emma and Henry, they'd better hear it from him.

But he didn't, and he couldn't. Because Liam, who had always been there for Killian, was dead. And Liam who spent a lifetime putting up with and lecturing his 'little brother' wasn't ever coming back. If Killian had thought his life was unravelling after the drama with Milah, then now it was truly beginning to fall apart.

* * *

 **I think anyone who knows the story of Love, Rosie, knew something like this was coming.**

 **My proof reading it pretty crap becaue I've had so little sleep this weekend thanks to MCM. Literally, I had to get a train at midnight on Friday to get to Exeter, then get a bus at quarter past 2 on Saturday for five hours to get to London. Then it was forty minutes on the tube to get to MCM with still no sleep! Then getting home was a real treat, leaving MCM for another forty minute tube ride and then a six hour coach ride to get home at midnight again still with no sleep. I pretty much went 48 hours without sleep. but it was fun, though**

 **Let me know what you think!**


	12. If I Would Have Known That You Wanted Me

**Not as long a chapter, I know, but I didn't want too much happening in this one.**

 **Let me know what you think, and I apologise now for my crappy spelling and grammar!**

* * *

 _"And you don't know what you've got until it's gone,_

 _And you don't know who to love until you're lost,_

 _And you don't know how to feel until the moment's passed"_

 _-Amber Run, 5am_

* * *

The funeral was held in Boston. It wasn't home, at least not to Killian, but it was the closest thing that either of the brothers Jones had to it after leaving England. Truth was, for Killian, home had always been where his family was, and although Liam had come along with Killian to Boston and started making his own family here, it wasn't where his entire family was. Killian's family was parted, but now, now the only family he had left was in Bristol, married to another man, living a domestic life that he thought would never be good enough for her. Emma Swan was Killian's family, her and Henry both, and he wasn't with them as he should be. He really needed his family right now.

The service was quick. At least, for Killian it was. It could have taken hours for all he knew. One moment he was helping to carry Liam's casket beside Kristoff, Jefferson and a couple of Liam's friends that Killian had barely spoken to, and the next they were ready to lower him into the ground and cover him up for good.

A small part of Killian was still hoping the was one of Liam's sick practical jokes, like the time his brother had conviced him that chocolate was actually poisionous and the antidote was broccoli, the one thing Killian couldn't stand to eat. He'd gone days fighting the urge to eat chocolate along side his brother and Emma and whenever he caved, Liam was right there, a sprout of broccoli in hand. Sure, it had been a harmless joke, but it had struck Killian as a young boy as cruel. He was hoping this joke was cruel, and not the crushing reality he was to be left with.

But as the grave was filled in and people began to place their flowers and respects upon it, Killian felt any hope of this being a joke or even a really lucid dream, beginning to falter. It was a cold miserable day, but he couldn't feel it. People would place their hands on his shoulder and whisper condolences in his ear, yet he heard nothing and felt no touch. Because his brother was gone. The man who he'd have followed to the ends of the earth had passed and gone on an adventure of his own to a place that, despite wanting to, Killian couldn't follow.

Elsa stood with her sister Anna and her husband Kristoff not far from where Killian stood, each of them dressed in black, trying desperately to console the weeping blonde. Killian should be with them, he should be helping his would-be-sister-in-law to deal with this loss, but he couldn't. He felt as thought a fist had been punched straight through his chest, breaking through his heart and crushing the part of it that held the words of comfort that Elsa so desperately needed. No, Killian was better as a silent comfort to her, someone who she could go to when her sister became too much and the world began to close in. He'd be there for her in the way that Emma was there for him, constantly, but at a distance.

Telling Emma had to have been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, and not being able to tell her face to face had made it that much harder.

Once he'd picked himself up off of the kitchen floor where he'd slumped, Elsa's sobs no longer on the other end of the phone, he'd dialled Emma's number, hoping she'd be the one to answer, and not her husband. It had been her. As soon as she'd picked up the receiver and he'd heard her voice all of the courage in his system left him, swept away like a message written in the sand. It as only after a few moments of silence as she'd gone to hang up on him that Killian had finally spoken up. Silence was all he's hear after that, nothing but the gentle sound of her breathing through the phone.

Then the sobs began.

They weren't as harsh as Elsa's that had boomed in his ear and chipped away at his heart. No, Emma's were quite and muffled, as thought her hand was over her mouth to keep the sound in and then he heard her intake of breath, a fast, shaky inhale that told her she was fighting to hold herself together. That didn't chip his already fragile heart, that broke it. And so neither said anything more, just held the phone to their ears and listened to the sign that the other was still there crying alone on the other side of the phone. Killian had ever needed her more than he did in that moment. He'd fallen asleep on the kitchen floor that night, phone jammed to his ear just for a beat of her voice and when he'd awoken in the morning the call had ended, but only after five hours.

He didn't care how much that was going to cost him because it didn't matter, not anymore.

At some point in his haze, Killian had been pulled away from Liam's grave by who he thought to be Liam's work friend, Robin. He was sat down for a moment on one of the benches in the churchyard, staring out instead at the pots of grey tombstones in the sea of green grass and brightly coloured flowers, not that Killian paid all that much attention. He was vaguely aware of a plastic cup filled with water being palced in his hand, but he didn't drink it. Instead, he left it on the bench and when no one was looking, made his way back over to Liam's grave, now smothered with flowers so that only the top half was visible. _Liam Brennan Jones. Beloved Brother, Fiancé and Godfather._ It said nothing of who he really was, Killian knew, but there was nothing he could do about it now. There would never be enough space on a tombstone to spell out who Liam really was, so he supposed that 'Brother, Fiancé and Godfather' would just have to do.

Amongst the sea of flowers, Killian spotted something dusted with drizzle as it had begun to rain. He didn't know why, but he knelt down and pick it up. It was a stuffed toy, a pirate ship, not bigger than his palm with soft, white linen sails that didn't move with the breeze, and black cannons embroidered on the side. There was a note too, of course. Everyone who'd left something for Liam had left a note of some sort, telling him how much they'd miss him and how wonderful he was. But this one was small, no larger than a business card and blank one side. What he read when he turned it over made his throat close and his jaw slacken like he needed to throw up, more out of greif than any kind of disgust, because right now, reading the soft, still messy handwriting, he could feel himself ready to fall apart once more.

 _All my love – Emma._

And that was all it said.

"Hey," He heard the voice over his shoulder, not too far away, but enough that he craved the body to be closer, beause he'd recognise that voice anywhere. He couldn't quite believe it. Turning around he saw her, the shoulders of her black, fitted blazer damp from drizzle over her knee length black dress, her blonde hair pulled back and away from her pale, makeup-less face. Her eyes were red and Killian just knew she'd been crying. Because this was Emma Swan, and no one knew her like Killian did.

"Really?" Killian replied, holding up the plush pirate ship for her to see, the laugh in his voice broken by his grief. Liam had always joked about becoming a pirate, even when he got older, of how the three of them would sail the seas and be free of foster homes and parents who didn't care. They'd remake themselves, he'd said, and they'd be free. Emma smiled softly at Killian, looking at the ship with her soft green eyes before stepping closer to him. Killian didn't miss the absence of Neal, but then there was an absence of Henry, and Killian couldn't help wondering if she'd flown out here alone after all.

"Yeah," She said, a soft smile playing at her lips. "When I – When you told me, it was like I was just a fucked up kid all over again, sitting alone in some foster home because another family didn't want me," Killian wanted to embrace her, truly he did, but she looked just as fragile as he felt, and he wasn't sure if they were to hug that they wouldn't shatter, cutting one another on their broken, jagged edges as they fell. They'd both been hurt enough. "You were always worshipping this amazing brother that you had and he was always there for you,"

"But you came," Perhaps saying it aloud would just make it more real, to prove that she was indeed there, and she was looking at him with eyes so familiar that they felt like home.

"I realised something," She said, smile gone, eyes more open than Killian had seen him in years. "When I woke up the next moring and I was – I just – _ached_. And I've never had that before when someone's gone, because that's just life. But then I realised," Her lip was trembling, Killian noticed, but he couldn't stop her from speaking. He had a feeling that whatever she was trying to say, he needed to hear, and maybe she needed to say it too, aloud, with someone listening. "Liam was my brother too. He always has been." Killian smiled slightly at that and Emma, however weakly, returned it.

"I, um, I never even got to say goodbye," He crumbled then, biting hard againt his lip to stop from crying out, but the tears spilled over anyway, trakcing down his cheeks fast and hot, like he'd been saving them all his life for this day. He'd have collapsed if he could have, but then she was there. Emma collided with him, her arms going around his neck as she dragging him closer to her, fingertips brushing against the tips of his hair and he didn't hesitate in wrapping his around her waist, one hand holding the back of her neck, the other gripping tight to material at the back of he blazer. It wasn't uncomfortable though, and despite how tight they were holding one another, it didn't hurt. With her was exactly where Killian was meant to be – where he _needed_ to be, and he didn't think anything could pull him away again.

"Hey-Oh! Hand's off my woman," Except maybe that. The first thing Killian noticed about Neal when he pulled away from Emma was that he was smiling, not in a I'm-So-Happy-To-Be-Here way, but in a I'm-smiling-because-I'm-an-idiot-way. The second thing, was how he all but fell into Emma, jostling her to the side as his arm came around her shoulders, smashing a clumsy kiss to her temple as she frantically tried to dry her face. Thirdly, was how uncomfortable Emma seemed to be in his hold, nothing like how she had melted against him not moment ago, her body curving against Killian's s they fit together as one, perfect, broken entity. "I've just been talking to Elsa's sister, she is such a bore!" Neal said, his mouth close to Emma's ear despite how loud he was talking. That was when it hit Killian just what was going on.

"Seriously," He said, his fists clenched at his sides and Neal seemed to take in Killian properly for the first time. "Are you pissed?"

"I actually happen to find funerals really difficult, Killian," Neal said, as though it counted as any form of an excuse. It may well have done to a rational minded person, but with his brother gone and Emma in pieces, Killian was anything but rational.

"Oh, Because Emma and I, and even Henry," Killian said, having noticed where Emma's lad was stood with Elsa, the two of them talking not ten feet away with tear tracked faces. "We're having a great time." Neal hadn't known Liam, and as far as Not-Rational Killian was concerned, he had no just cause to show up at his funeral, drunk out of his mind and already making this day worse for those here.

"You know what, fuck you!" Neal shouted, releasing Emma and moving to step towards Killian. A fight, that would surely help. Not in the long run, even irrational minded Killian knew that, but right now it would. Killian had been positively _itching_ to get his hands on Neal from the moment he'd heard of his abandonment of Emma and even though they were married now and apparently happy, Killian would have liked nothing more than to punch the smug look off of his face until the bastard was spitting blood. There was only one thing in his way, and it was enough to halt any and all violent thoughts in Killian's body.

"Stop it!" Emma said, planting herself between them, pushing back on Neal's chest as he continued trying to advance. Killian had deflated the moment she'd spoken, his fists unclenching and his jaw slackening once more. He'd never fight in front of her. That wasn't a side of him he'd ever want her to see. After some resistance and a clearly very firm look from Emma, Neal too, backed off. But judging by the look on his face and how his fists were still ready, Killian wouldn't be turning his back on him any time soon.

"Well, we're sorry for your loss," Neal said and the words sounding nothing close to comforting, especially from his mouth. "And I hope you can accept out condolences. Come on, let's go." He had tried to reach for Emma's hand to pull her along after him, but Emma had snatched it away none-too-gently.

"I'll be right there," She remedied, seeing the hurt and frustration flash over Neal's features. With one last look between Emma and Killian, his eyes narrowed, he sulked off. Killian would never understand how such a man had managed to not only capture the heart of someone like Emma, but also help create a boy as magnificent as Henry. It simply didn't make any sense to Killian. "I'm so sorry, Killian," Emma said, turning her attention back to him.

"Swan, it's –"

"No," Emma cut him off, her hand on his forearm halting any words he'd been ready to say. He'd never craved someone's touch this much in his life, just a reminder that she was physically there, and wasn't leaving. But she was. Shed fly back to England at the first chance if Neal had any say, it would be days, maybe weeks before he even heard from her again. Killian didn't think he could handle that right now. "Henry's never lost anyone and he wanted to say goodbye and I – I couldn't leave you to do this alone," Killian's heart sang at that, her words, that she was here for him, not just her son and not even just for herself. It wasn't much, but it was enough to spark some hope in his chest, hope that Emma would be beside him through this. Hope that she wasn't going anywhere. "But Neal didn't want us coming out alone and I _never_ thought he'd be like this." She pressed and Killian saw the anger in her eyes, how her face was flushed with more than just tears. He imagined there would be quite the talk between the married couple later, one he could only hope went a certain way.

"It's okay, Swan," Killian said, his hand gripping a hold of her and squeezing it softly, a soft, gentle reminder that he was there for her as well. "You came,"

"Did you doubt I would?" There was joke in her words but Killian miss the underlay that perhaps she thought he'd doubted her, that he'd believe that she wouldn't be there in his time of need. Honestly, he'd never have thought she'd come out here, but that wasn't doubt on his part, that was simply he didn't believe she knew just what she meant to him.

"Never," He said, but he knew Emma would sense the lie. Even if she did, she didn't seem insulted. She simple smiled at him, her teary eyes clearing.

"Make sure you speak to Henry. I'll deal with Neal." She said before her face lit up with a soft sort of surprise, the kind that confused Killian. She said nothing as she dug into the pocket of her blazer, her had coming back out as a fist before she reached for his hand once more. Killian gave it willingly, as he would do with anything she asked of him, he knew. He didn't question as she pressed something cool and bumpy into his hand, closing his fist around it before wrapping her arms around him once more. "I'll call you every week," she said into this ear, and just as he tried to hold her body to his, he knew he'd hold her to her promise.

The hug was quick this time, ending with a brief brush of her lips on his cheek, a connection his felt her cheek seeking out as she moved away, and then she was turning away from him. Their fingers were the last connection to break, his hand reaching after her even as she headed over the grass, stopping beside Elsa and Henry for just a moment before she continued in search of her drunk-arsed husband.

With tear blurred eyes and a surprisingly heavy heart considering how empty he'd been feeling. Killian opened his close palm. He felt his heart lurch at the sight of the chain coiled in his palm, and hanging off the end of it, the red jewel shining brightly in the dull graveyard, was Liam's ring, the one he'd given Emma all those years ago. He'd barely even thought about it since, but seeing it now, how she'd parted with it after all of this time because she knew that he'd need it more than her, set his heart afire. Emma deserved better than this life, she always had. She deserved better than the parents who left her and better than the husband who didn't appreciate her to her fullest. She deserved more than anyone could give, but Killian knew that if he just had the chance, he'd give her every part of him, in the hopes he could make up for the world.

* * *

Killian didn't see Emma after she'd gone looking for Neal. The service was clearing out of the churchyard in order to move onto the wake, and judging by how Henry tried to talk Killian's ear off, the Swan-Cassidy's wouldn't be attending. Killian had been sure that he'd want this day over with, left as just another unpleasant memory in the shit pit that was his life. But then he'd seen Emma and somehow, even on the bleariest of days, she had brought back the light. And then there was Henry, teary eyed but still talking a mile a minute, he and Killian sharing memories that they had of Liam so that Henry could fill in the blanks left by the absence of one of his godfathers. It was strange how close bond could grow in the wake of tragedy and Killian found himself begging any who was listening for this day to last a little longer, to have just one more smile from Henry, and just one more touch from Emma. But as the afternoon drew on and Neal appeared once more, Killian found his prayers went unanswered.

Neal said nothing to Killian as he beckoned Henry over, clearly having already been chastened by Emma, and then they were gone, leaving Killian alone on a bench in a slowly emptying graveyard.

Emma had said that she'd call, so Killian knew there was that to look forward to, but even as he sat in the bar that Liam had loved, surrounded by his friends and mourners, a glass of rum between his hands, he couldn't help but think this wasn't enough.

Liam had bee calling Killian a blind isiot for years now, something Killian had taken in stride as just what borhters say. But now, knowing that his family was elsewhere boarding a plane, and the rest of it was already gone, he found himself realising just what his brother hd meant.

How wise Liam had been to see it, even when Killian had been too stubborn and blind.

Emma deserved the world, Killian knew this already. But what he hadn't seemed to realise until now was just what it was that Killian was willing to do to give it to her and, perhaps most off all, why.

He loved her. Plain and simple. And yet, he'd let her slip through his fingers more time that one, but he wasn't ready to let it happen again, at least not without trying. He knew that she had a long flight ahead of her and that she wouldn't check her phone for at least two days back in England, but Killian needed to get this out, he needed to vent he needed – to write it down.

Before he was even sure what was happening, Killian was sat at the bar, his rum glass abandoned with a pen in hand. And with his heart, he began to write. _Emma, you deserve -_

* * *

 **So, Hopefully that was all lovely and full of feels for all of you!**

 **Any who know the story of _'Love, Rosie,'_ Will know what goes down in the next chapter. So be ready for that next week!**

 **Let me know what you think!**


	13. The Way I Wanted You

**I didn't have time to spell check this properly, and I'm sorry for that, but I've got some spare time tomorrow and I'm going to proof read it properly**

 **Anyway, I'm thinking about doing a Once Upon A Time and Walking Dead crossover and was wondering who would be interested. I'll post a snippet at the end of this chapter and please let me know what you think.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 _"Just please don't say you love me_  
 _'Cause I might not say it back_  
 _Doesn't mean my heart stops skipping when you look at me like that"_

 _\- Please Don't Say You Love Me, Gabrielle Aplin_

* * *

Everything had become to feel very normal very quickly. Emma hadn't been able to stay for Liam's wake, and so she, Neal and Henry had flown back home, back to their mundane lives in Bristol, a weight that would take years to lessen hanging around their necks. And then it was like nothing had happened. Henry went back to school the same smiley, talkative boy he always was and Neal had gone back to work. It seemed like Emma was the only one not ready to get back into her lifestyle, but with a son in need of care and a husband who needed his wife – even if he didn't have a habit of showing it.

"Mum! I can't go without my story book!" Henry called down the stairs. Emma was already rushing around like a mad woman, not even dressed as she headed for the post falling through the letter box. That was until Henry called, which instead left her storming back up the stairs in search of Henry's book, the same one he's not let go of for years. And so, the post was left to be dealt with a bit later. Emma wasn't due to be at work until the evening, working the late shift into the early morning, so there was plenty of time.

"Anything for me?" She asked as she descended the last few steps, spotting Neal flicking through the post already dressed in his suit for work.

"Uh, yeah," He said before stuffing something, presumably another high pricing bill, into the pocket of his blazer before holding out the brown, heavily stamped envelope towards her. "Just this one." She recognised the handwriting scrawled across the front of it immediately.

"Liam," She breathed, her throat feeling a lot drier as her chest clenched slightly. "From before he died."

"Oh, God. Don't read that." Neal said, reaching as it to take it back from her, but Emma didn't have the heart to let it go.

"What?" She asked, holding it closer to her chest as thought she could feel Liam through it, remembering the last time she had seen him, how he had danced with her at her wedding and told her how proud of her he was, that she was family. And now he was gone, and she didn't know if she was ready to accept that fully yet or not. Maybe this letter could help with that.

"Well, it'll upset you."

"I'm already upset." Emma snapped and there was no lie in her voice. She could feel her eyes tearing up a tiny bit as she clutched the envelope tightly, but she refused to cry, at least in front of Neal.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked and Emma didn't know how sincere he was being. After how he'd acted at the funeral, Emma had found herself spending less and less time around her husband, not because she didn't love him, but because she had needed him that day, needed his support and maybe even some of his comfort. Instead, all she'd gotten was torn away fromt eh only other person who was feeling the pain the same as she was. Killian had needed her too, and her visit was cut short by Neal's stupidity. She wasn't quite ready to forgive that just yet.

"Funnily enough, no."

"Okay," he said, not sounding too crushed over Emma's rejection, but not exactly seemed too thrilled either. "Well, call me if you need anything. Okay?" But she didn't answer, nad moved out and away from him as he attempted a quick kiss on her cheek.

Sitting on the bottom step, she tore open the envelope and began to read.

 _Dear Emma,_

 _I can't believe it. Here I am at last, walking along the Mediterranean cost with the woman I love._

 _I've lost count of just how long I've been waiting for this moment, to see the world. I was going to join the navy with Killian and we were to see it together. That was the dream, but life got in the way I suppose. But I don't regret it, not one minute. But we forget our dreams at our peril. I know you had yours, too, Emma, and know it must feel sometimes like they're gone for good. But I am so proud of the woman you've become, Emma, of the mother you've been to Henry and the family you've been for Killian and I._

 _What I once said about you is still true, there's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it. Now I wouldn't be a very good brother to you if I didn't tell you just how important you are, Emma, just how loved. I know we are note h family you'd dreamed of all those years ago, but I hope that we can be enough for you. I love you, Emma, and it because I love you that you need to keep chasing those dreams of yours, just like how I encouraged Killian to chase his in Boston. Will you do that, darling? For me and your family, can you live your dream Emma?_

 _Liam._

Emma didn't go to work that day. She didn't call in sick and he didn't explain, but Ruby knew. Instead, Emma headed to the roof of her home and sat there, atching the sky as it turned to pink. Neal was picking Henry up that night, so she had nothing to worry about, and so she let the day pass, basking in the grief of the brother she had lost.

Henry found her, of course, as he always did. He didn't ask what was going on, just pried the letter from her fingers and sat down beside her on the wall, his head rested on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. They were there for hours, Emma thought, the sky falling dark around them, the fairy lights Emma had hung up around them with Mary-Margret glowing into life, bathing them in soft, orange light as the wind whipped their hair around them.

"How can someone just not be there anymore?" Henry asked, and Emma realised just how hard her son had been working to put on his brave face. Liam had been more than just Emma's family; he had been Henry's too. Godfather Liam had become uncle Liam, small video chats had become days out in the parks and sleepovers whenever Liam came back home to visit. They had always been close, and so Emma didn't know how she could just assume Henry was handling everything better than she was. He was hurting, and as usual, she couldn't find the right words to say.

"Fuck knows." Is what she settled for and Henry laughed at that. He'd heard he swear plenty of times, be it cutting her finger preparing dinner or the occasional argument he'd overhear between her and Neal over a stupid, petty thing. Yet he never copied the words, just soaked them in like he did everything else in the world.

"At least he did everything he wanted." Henry said and he wasn't wrong. Liam had wanted to see the world, he'd wanted Killian to succeed and he'd wanted Emma to be happy. He'd wanted to meet a woman who he could spend the rest of his life with and he wanted his own business. He'd done it all, in such a short span of time, Liam had lived, and Emma knew that she would never forget him. "He didn't forget is dreams." A thought struck Emma then and despite the pain of loss stil heavy in her heart, she smiled, and turned towards her son.

"What if I told you I was going to use my share of the money from Liam's will to get my book published?" She asked. The idea had been swirling for quite some time now, ever since the lawyer had sat her down and explained that by selling his business, Liam had quite a bit of money left over. Elsa and Killian got the most of it, of course, as did the charities towards foster homes that Emma had never known he cared for, but there was still some left over for her and Henry, and she could use that to live her dream, as Liam had wanted her to. "I'd have to do it myself, of course, not having to go through agents and ejection letters but, I think I could do it."

"I think that would be awesome, mum," Henry said with a smile and Emma felt her own widening. Her grip around Henry's shoulders tightened as she pressed a quick kiss to his hair. Emma had found her happiness, just like Liam had always wanted, now all that was left was to live her dream. It was time Emma finished her storybook.

* * *

 _Emma,_ Killian typed, sat at the base of the steps in his Boston apartment, the one he'd live din for the past five years as he continued his training to be a doctor. It wouldn't be long now before he wouldn't be Mr. Jones, anymore, but Dr. Jones, and not a day went by that he didn't hate the world for Liam not being there to see it. But Emma was, and after the letter he had sent to her, one he was certain she had received, he couldn't help wondering where they stood. He'd barely heard from her par the phone call she had promised, but she was skirting the topic of what Killian had asked. He'd told her that he loved her in his letter, and yet she had done nothing to reach out for him to say that yes, she loved him too. It was maddening, not knowing. To think, she could be in England right now, cursing the stars above her for keeping them apart. Or, she could be cosied up with Neal, sipping cocoa on their sofa in their house with their son, not owing Killian anything. But he needed to know. _I understand why you haven't been in touch. And I just need to know one thing. Are you happy with him?_

She had replied far quicker than Killian had expected, his heart lodging somewhere in his throat as he watched the three little dots bumping over the screen beside her bright smiling face.

 _There's not much I've gotten right in my life,_ she wrote, fingers hovering over the keys as she sat in her kitchen Henry at school and Neal at work, her coffee going cold beside her and she thought of just what she had to say. _But this family, somehow we've managed to make it work._ And they had, despite the constant arguments and the frustrations, the cold words spoken to one another and the trails that came with being alive, her family was still together. And she was happy. But the question still lingered in the air. Just because she was happy with her life, with her family and her friends, did it truly mean she was happy with Neal? Was he such a fundamental part of her life that her joy would crumble without him, or was he merely there, skirting the side-lines enough that Emma could blot him out? She simply wasn't sure, but she was going to stick it out to make herself sure. _So, I guess the one-word answer to your question should be, yes._

It was an open ended answer, Killian knew that. Emma had her life now and Neal was a vital part of it. He may not like it one bit, but he needed to accept it. And so he let the topic lie, slowly shutting his laptop when he heard the shuffling of footsteps up the stairs, followed by the presence of hands on his chest and Tink, dressed in nothing but one of his overlarge shirts appeared behind him, kissing his cheek. If Emma was happy and moving on with her life, then perhaps it was time Killian found happiness in his own.

* * *

"Emma, can you spend one day not fussing over you finances." Ruby said as she stood behind the counter, peering over Emma's shoulder at the online banking Emma had recently become obsessed with. Putting her money from Liam's will towards getting her book published was great, but there was still the issue of more money coming in than was going out. She had a bank account of her own, sure, filled with little savings here and there for Henry's future, then there was the shared account for her and Neal, the account that was beginning to look a little bare over the past few months. Emma was just trying to keep on top of things.

"I never had much money growing up," Emma reasoned, her fingers poised over the mouse pad as she spoke to Ruby without looking at her. The diner had been empty for the past couple of hours, Wednesdays always seeming to be a slow on until lunchtime. "I like to know here it's all going."

"The Sweetlands Hotel, apparently," Ruby said pointing to an external payment that Emma had yet to reach.

"that's where we had our end of school dance." Emma said, thinking out loud. "Where Henry was, well – you know." She said, remembering that night still quite nicely in her mind. It hadn't been the first time Emma and Neal had ever slept together, but for her, it had certainly been the most memorable one. If she remembered correctly, Neal had snuck a key off of the cleaning ladies trolley, the two of them sneaking into one of the rooms for a bit of fun before it was time to head on home. "he's booked the bridal suite for this weekend." She observed, cross checking the account with Neal's email, the password for which Emma had been able to guess after one failed attempt. Henry's birthday with an exclamation point, not exactly a deadlock. "That's where he is this weekend on business. You don't think? For our anniversary?" Emma was beaming, she could feel it. They'd never made a big deal about their wedding anniversary before, and Emma hadn't expected much more than a card and maybe some flowers from the petrol station, but it would seem that Neal was stepping up his game. Emma was surprised how much she liked it. "that's him now," She said, siping her phone off of the counter with a grin at Ruby before answering. "Hey,"

" _Hey, gorgeous,"_ Neal said through the other end, his voice almost completely muffled by the sounds of people in the background. He was prpbably in a meeting of some sort and wanted to let her know of his anniversary plans. " _Listen, I'm going to have to stay here for a couple extra nights. The guys need me to check out some other venues."_ Neal had never believed in Emma's super power, and perhaps he should have, because right now it was going haywire. Emma didn't want to think about it, she dindt want to think that Neal was lying to her, but the ringing in her ears was getting awfully hard to hear past and her gut was clenching unpleasantly with every word he spoke. " _Do you think you could take Henry to Mary-Margrets and I can swing by on Sunday and pick you up?"_ Emma was silent. She was sure she wasn't even breathing right now, and judging byt eh confusion in Neal's tone, he thought she may have hung up. " _Babe?"_

"Fine." Emma said, a little too quickly, all of the breath in her lungs gushing out at once as she tried very hard not to cough

" _Alright, cool. See you later then."_ in Neal's tone, he thought she may have hung up.

"Talk later." Emma had hung up before he'd even had the chance to say by, the beating of her pule in her ears becoming too much to bear. He was lying to her, she could feel it, but she really didn't want to believe it. "Check I the account again." Emma said, clutching her phone tightly in her hand, her knuckles white. She could hear Ruby clicking the mouse pad, but couldn't look at her.

"It's still here. Bridal Suite for two, online check in confirmed two hours ago." Ruby trailed off after that, but Emma knew exactly what it meant. He had lied, he was still lying. A part of her was hoping it was all some stupid misunderstanding, that perhaps he just needed a room for the night and the bridal suite happened to be the only one available. But Emma knew that hope could be a foolish thing. "Oh, Emma," She knew what was happening, she knew it even if she didn't want to. Now all that was left was to confront him about it.

"Son of a bitch."

She didn't bother waiting until her shift ended, the fire was burning though her veins and whatever this thing was between her and Neal, needed to be shut down. And so, she and Ruby locked up the diner and climbed into Emma's yellow bug before embarking on a silent and incredibly tension filled road trip.

"Emma!" Ruby shouted after he as Emma climbed out of the bug, slamming the door behind her as she made her way towards the entrance of the hotel. She didn't care that she was still dressed in her uniform, little red apron and all, nor did she care that there was staff calling after her as she stormed the lobby, heading straight for the bar area. She was on a mission, and God help the poor sods that got in her way. "What are you gonna say?" That much Emma hadn't figure out, but it was going to be full of well-deserved profanities.

She'd spotted Neal in the room full of people almost immediately, the side of his face unmistakable as he leant towards the woman standing between him and the bar. It could have been innocent, of course, right up until Emma noticed his hand wandering up her side, fingers playing with the hem of her orange shirt. Emma barely had a chance to see the woman's face through the red, the anger in her blood forcing her forward through the crowd. She didn't think, didn't consider any consequences, just grippe Neal's shoulder so he spun around to face her, registering the shock in his eyes before her fist connected quite satisfyingly with his nose.

It hurt, but Emma was grateful of it, the throbbing in her knuckles a potent reminder that this was in fact real. Neal had lied and was with another woman, a beautiful one at that. She'd feel like crying if not for her pride.

If not for Ruby, Emma was sure that she would have gone to hit him again, the anger far from sated from a single hit. As it happened, Ruby was there, her hand a gentle pressure at Emma's elbow as she threw three, square silver packages. The realisation in Neal's eyes was enough for Emma to turn to go, leaving Neal lying on the floor as she left the hotel with her head held high.

* * *

Telling Henry had gone far better than Emma had expected. He'd taken the news very much on the head, accepting the news of his father's infidelity as he would bad news of them being out of cinnamon. He agreed that Neal was his father, and that he loved him, but he also knew that HE and Emma had managed fine on their own before, and they would again.

And so, Emma had taken the next step in her moving on. Eradicating whatever part of himself that Neal had left behind. Their bedroom came first, Emma shoving his clothes into three large bin bags before leaving them out on the street. Either he could come and collect them or the bin men would, Emma preferred the latter. Next came the living room, binning all of his books and DVDs and then the hallways, taking down each of the photos that held his face smiling down a her. It was nauseating. Finally, Emma came to his study, the one room where she didn't need to pick and choose what went and what stayed. This was Neal's working space and Emma was ready to tear it apart. She swiped everything off of the shelves, tipping files and documents alike off of the desk, pulling out drawers and tipping the contents into black bags ready to shove out of the street with the rest of it.

There was a locked drawer to the desk, one Emma hadn't known was there until it refused to open. She'd tried to find a key, but come up empty, settling instead to pry it open, breaking the lock with a screw driver and a hammer. It was amusing, she thought, thinking back to when she lived with Mary-Margret and David and she'd decided to destroy the toaster after a day with Neal gone south. Seems destruction was a good way for Emma to clear her head properly. It was while she emptied out the drawer full of papers he didn't want Emma to find that she came across an envelope already opened, her name written across the front in soft handwriting that Emma knew from years' worth of note passing and copying homework. The letter was dated for May 2013, earlier this year. She didn't waste any more time, collapsing onto the floor against the desk and beginning to read.

 _Emma,_

 _You deserve someone who loves you with every beat of his heart. Someone who will always be there for you and who will love every part of you, especially your flaws._

 _I know Henry needs his dad. I don't want to intrude. So, if this is all wrong, just ignore it and I promise I'll never broach the subject again._

 _Neal's not the man for you, Emma. Twice now I've let you slip through my fingers. Let's stop being afraid and take the chance. I know now that I can make you happy. Call me if you feel the same way._

 _Love, Killian._

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, for Emma to grasp ahold of the thread that was tying Emma to her rational thinking and to hae her understand just what she had read. Once she had, she was up and heading straight for the kitchen, landing at the table where her laptop was placed and scrabbling to pry it open with one hand still clutching Killian's letter.

 _Emma: Killian, are you there?_

She typed, her fingers shaking over the keys even after she'd pressed them. Her eyes never left the screen, waiting for any sign that he was there, that he was still waiting for her. She could remember his message not long ago, asking her if she was happy with Neal, and that he understood why she hadn't been in contact. All this time she'd been clueless, not knowing that he was across the ocean waiting beside his phone for any word from her, to know that she felt the same way. And she'd left him hopeless. Now, all that mattered was making sure that he knew, and hoping beyond all reason that he was still wiaitng for her.

 _Killian: ?_

 _Emma: Can we talk?_

 _Killian: I don't think you want to talk to me._

 _Emma: Killian, please! You're being weird._

 ** _VIDEO CHAT INVITATION FROM: Killian Jones_**

Emma accepted it immieditaly, not caring that her eyes were still red from crying, or that her hair was a mess of curls pulled back and away from her face or even that she was waering a shirt that was way too big for her tucked into a pair of ripped anf raying jeans. She didn't care because she was finally going to be able to see Killian and tell him, without fear of rejection, that she felt the same as he did, that she loved him too. Everything would finally start falling back into place.

But the face in the screen was not Killian's. Not unless Killian had dyed his hair blonde, grown it out long enough that he could tie it into a ponytail and wore a green, triangle scarf around his neck.

"Tink." Emma said, releasing a harsh breath she hadn't even known she was holding, her eyes beginning to sting as she looked at what she knew to Killian's apartment, Tatiana Bell sat at Killian's computer as thought she was making herself at home. "What are you doing there?"

"I live here now," Emma's heart sunk from her throat, settling instead like a stone at the base of her stomach, dragging her hopes down with it. "I moved in. Look who it is, Mr. Schnuffs!" Tink said over hr shoulder, to where Killian had emerged from the staircase, his hair and mess and his shirt partially undone. Even with the distance and the camera quality that wasn't to be desired, Emma could see the shock on Killian's face as he looked at her.

"Mr. Schnuffs." Emma breathed, just as Killian made his way to the top of the steps, rounding the wall so he could get closer.

"Emma."

"Baby, that thing we were talking about earlier. Ask her now." Emma didn't feel like she wanted to hear what 'that thing' was, especially not when Tink was slinging onto Killian, her hands shamelessly trailing up and down his arms as he pointedly avoided looking at Emma.

"Oh, Um. Tink and me, we thought why hang around – you know. So, she started organising the whole thing and Jefferson said no, so, your name came up, obviously-" Apparently Tink was getting tired of Killian beating around the bush, but somehow, Emma knew exactly what she was going to say before she even uttered a syllable. If Emma hadn't wanted to cry before, she certainly did now.

"We're getting married!" Tink exclaimed, a bright smile on her face as she revealed the gem mocking Emma on her ring finger. It was far nicer than the one Neal had gotten her, not that that was a detail really worth dwelling on, but Emma seemed to be looking at anything that could distract her from the beaming smile on Tink's face. "The weddings next week. It's fast, but we need to fit it in before I start filming in New York," Tink was still talking but it seemed to be washing over Emma, who could only stare at the bubbly blonde and wonder just how her life had reached this point. "And you have to be our best man."

"Well, I mean, you are a girl," Emma would have laughed at that, called him some bullshit name like 'Captain Obvious' or something stupid like that. As it happened, Emma just felt empty, her eyes stinging as she watched the couple before her, the happiness that she could almost _feel_ emitting off of them even through the screen.

"This is because of you," Tink said with a smile, and Emma couldn't help but feel as though she was rubbing salt in the wound. "You told me to come here. It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for you. Thank you." But Emma was feeling anything but welcome right now. In fact, she was beginning to notice how one small act of kindness was coming back to bite her in the arse, had. Just when Emma felt her life beginning to come together, it started to fall apart.

* * *

"It's so great having you as a friend," Ruby said as she sipped her coffee atop Emma's roof. It was a Sunday, and the diner had closed early after the lunchtime rush and so the two women had taken to a calm afternoon. Henry was spending the day at Violet's and so Emma was pretty much free to do as she wished. That seemed to mean spending the day om the roof, listening to Ruby talk about anything and everything – including Emma's love life. "I mean, every time something goes wrong in my life all I have to do is look at yours and it puts everything into perspective." Emma didn't argue because she wasn't wrong.

"He proposed to her on a boat." Emma said gloomily because it was exactly the kind of thing Killian would do. She knew he'd spent his part of Liam's money buying his very own boat, what she didn't know was that he took his new fiancé of trips with it as a part of a big romantic gesture. "It's like Kate and Leonardo in that scene on the deck."

"The titanic?" Ruby supplied, knowing full well Emma hated that film.

"Yeah, sure." She said, picking up her feet to rest on the edge of the bench David had helped her get onto the roof and leaning her arms on her knees, her chin then coming to rest atop her arms.

"How appropriate." Ruby said, rolling her eyes slightly. "Look, Killian is yours. He always has been. This," she said, gesturing to the letter Emma had let her read. Let was a bit of an overstatement. It was more Emma had been rereading the letter when Ruby had arrived at hers and after noticing how little Emma wanted to read it, the other girl had become awfully determined to do just that. "Is just proof of ownership."

"But he wrote that months ago," Emma reasoned, trying to not find so much amusement in the other woman's frustration. "And anyway, he's my best friend."

"No, I'm your best friend," Ruby announced, jumping up so she was standing in front of where Emma stood, her hand holding Emma's shoulders as though she could shake the sense into her. "Get it yet?"

"We just keep missing each other." Like when Emma got pregnant and was unable to get to America, or when she went for a visit only to find Killian with his pregnant girlfriend and then Emma married Neal. No matter what they did, they couldn't seem to meet in the middle. Like two sets of parallel lines going in opposite directions, watching the other pass by but never touching. "Or maybe we're just not meant to be," She's not meant to sound so childish, nor so pathetic, but Ruby heard it. Clearly, is was exasperating dealing with Emma.

"Right, let me explain this in a language you might understand." Ruby said, backing away slightly as thought she was taking centre stage, ready to give the performance of a lifetime. "Ship. Iceberg." She said flailing her hands slightly for emphasis. "Ship hits iceberg. Mayhem. Horror. Ocean of ice. And then Killian on the last life boat. One space left. Is it going to be Tatiana?" She said, pointing way out towards the sea of roofs and television aerials. "Or Emma."

"He'd jump overboard and let us both live." Emma reasoned, because he would. Killian, the same gentleman he's always been.

"It's you, you dumb-arse. Killian would pick you every time." That, at least, put a smile on Emma's face, thinking that all this time Killian may have loved her the way she loved him. It might not be over for them. There might just be a chance.

* * *

"What?" Emma asked, dragging her one suitcase behind her as Ruby emerged with more bags that should be physically possible to carry. "You're immigrating now?"

"Less time, more outfits, and you're paying excess." Ruby argued, finally managing to squeeze through the automatic door without getting caught and catching up with where Emma stood with Henry and, for some reason, Violet. "What is this, a school outing?"

"I couldn't exactly leave him behind," Emma said. She had tried getting a hold of Neal, only to find he'd disappeared against back to his wealthy father, no doubt with the beautiful woman he'd been with at the hotel. But Emma didn't have time now to be bitter. "And where Henry goes, Violet goes."

"Oh, are you two an item?"

"No way, we're friends!" The two teenagers exclaimed together, clearly appalled by the thought of being a couple. Ruby, however, looked ready to hide her face in a pillow and scream.

"God, give me strength," She said, rolling her eyes so hard Emma was sure she heard them. "Well, come on. We're really late."

"Relax," Emma said, pushing the trolley holding everyone's luggage through the terminal. "I hate arriving early and besides, we have a five or six-hour cushion on the other side." The group halted once they were stood before the departure board, each of the columns where there should be boarding times were all lit up and flashing red, one word repeated for dozens and dozens of flights. **Delayed.** "Um, sorry, Emma said, pushing through a clearly agitated crowd to reach the scarily calm air stewardess. "What's going on?"

"Volcanic ash." She said reasonably, continuing to answer the distressed enquiries of the rest of the passengers awaiting flights.

"But I need to get to Boston." Emma said, but there wasn't much point. There was nothing the stewardess could do, Emma just needed someone to vent at and she seemed to be closest.

"There is a five to six-hour delay."

"I think your cushion just burst." Ruby said to Emma. It wasn't necessary, Emma was already thinking it. Any chance that Emma had of making it in time to actually do anything was beginning to slim. Fate, it seemed was a fickle bitch.

* * *

When they finally reached the airport in America, five hours later than initially planned, they already knew they were late. They gathered their belonging from the conveyer as quickly as possible before making their way into the car park where Jefferson, Milah's brother was waiting, holding up Emma's best woman dress for her to see. It was beautiful, she supposed, or the colour was. It was somehow both blue and green at the same time, swishing together like the ocean that Killian so loved. It was short, and would reach just above her knee with strange, blue, mesh like netting material forming cropped shoulders.

"You'll have to get dressed in the van," Jefferson said, thrusting the dress into Emma's arms before moving to open up the side of his very orange van for both Henry and Violet to climb inside. "We are so late." He said, before turning to see Ruby had climbed into the driver's seat of the van. "Excuse me." He said as Ruby groaned in frustration.

"You get everything the wrong way round over here!" She said before doing her best to climb over the gear stick into the passenger seat. It wasn't the most elegant display, but Ruby, as ever, seemed untouched without a single o of her perfectly curled hairs out of place.

"And you are?" Jefferson asked, but he didn't seem offended by her presence, if anything, he seemed a little in awe of the beautiful woman sat in front of him.

"Ruby."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ruby," Jefferson said, stepping forward and extending his hand for Ruby to take. She didn't hesitate, smiling up at him and even batting her thick lashes slightly.

"Like wise." Emma was surprised that Ruby seemed just as in awe of the strange, cravat wearing man before her as he did of her.

"Will you marry me?" Jefferson asked and Emma felt herself squeezing between the driver's and passenger's seat to see what the hell was going on between the two of them.

"Yeah," Ruby said and Emma was about ready to throw a tantrum.

"What?" She said, looking between the two adults giving each other the goo-goo eyes like a pair of smitten teenagers. "That's not – that's not fair!" She exclaimed as Jefferson slid the van door shut, leaving Emma, already dressed in her best woman dress gawking at him. "It can't be that easy!"

The drive to the church had felt at the same time like a lifetime, and no time at all. When they finally arrived, Emma was launching herself from the van, trying her best to smooth out the frankly ridiculous looking dress with her hands from where she'd been sat on it.

"I think she wants all the women around her to look fat." Emma announced, racing up the stairs of the church with Ruby on her heels.

"Well, it works." Because if Ruby can't be honest about how you look, then who can, right? Emma would have laughed had she not heard the bells tolling above her, halting her movements as she stood at the end of the path, eyes cast to the large, arched wooden doors as they opened, spilling people into the church yard. Among them was Killian, he was hard to miss, his dark hair perfectly styled the way he liked it, dishevelled while still managing to look charming. His suit was a deep blue, his tie silver, shining brightly in the sunlight. And hanging onto his arm, a bright smile over her perfectly made up face, was Tink, dressed in a long, silky white dress, her blonde hair set in waves and falling over her shoulders, small white flowers woven through thin braids.

Killian looked up and caught her eye and Emma saw how his smile faltered if just for a second. There was nothing left she could do; she was too late. And so she did what she did best. She bit back her tears, swallowed her pain and her heartbreak and she smiled at her best friend, the man she loved, because he needed to see it. He needed to know that she was there for him, that despite everything that had happened, she was there for him. The small was forced, but it was enough to Killian returned it, before turning back to whoever had been congratulating him, leaving Emma with tiny window to let the pieces of her heart slip away, falling silently into dust. She had almost made it, but it wasn't enough. Fate truly was a fickle bitch.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter and below if the snippet from my OUAT/ TWD cross over.**

 **Feel free to comment or PM about the crossover or any questions you may have!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Travelling alone had been a stupid idea. Travelling alone on the single most congested highway in her yellow bug to search for a man she hadn't known for sure even wanted finding had been suicide.

"I'm really glad you're here." She said, listening to the slaps of rotting hands on the windshield and the windows, of starving groans barely a ruler's length away from her ear. Emma reached her hand towards him in the dying light - or perhaps it's the bloodied bodies clambering on the bonnet blocking out the sun - but he doesn't take it immediately like she'd hoped he would.

"Why?" Killian said, a half-hearted laugh escaping his throat as he looked helplessly for an escape route. He may have left their camps weeks prior, but the lesson of hope had clung to him like a bad smell. Emma was almost grateful for it. "Because misery loves company?" He smirked, but she couldn't return it. Not now, and if things didn't improve, not ever.

"Because I don't want to die alone." Her voice sounding so feeble, so childish, like the lost, little orphan who had cried alone in her foster homes, praying for her parents to come and save her from her nightmare world. But no one came, like no one would now. The nightmare would only end one way for her, and God, was she terrified of it.

And then the invincibility was gone and defeat was admitted. So, Killian accepted her outstretched hand because this may well be his last chance to. It was terrifying to think that it may all be over for them, the pirate so far from the ocean and the saviour who never even thought to save herself. He was afraid - he'd be a fool not to be - but he's grateful that she is here too, and he hates himself for the thought alone. But he's already realised, perhaps even before they were reunited, that if she is to disembark from this cruel and tragic life in such a gruesome way, he'd willing perish beside her.


	14. We Almost Knew What Love Was

**I can't actually believe this but this is the final chapter, guys. No joke, this is it. Twelve weeks and however months before that owrth of planning and hours spent writing with 59,558 words in total we've reach the end.**

 **Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this story from the beginning and to those who joined us for the ride in the middle and even those who have only picked this up at the end. It is the readers that make a writer who they are, whether it's fanfiction or published books, and I'm so grateful to you readers and your feedback. All of you are incredible and thank you so much!**

 **Be sure to let me know what you think of this story as a whole now that it's over and if you're not quite ready to let me go (Wishful thinking, I know then be sure t check out my other CaptainSwan stories, a couple of which still have a few weeks worth of writing in them before they're done.**

 **Thank you all again!**

* * *

 _"When, my, time comes around  
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth  
No grave, can hold my body down  
I'll crawl home to her"_

 _\- Work Song, Hozier_

* * *

And so the story came full circle. Emma was stood before no less than a hundred people, the one's that she knew, like Ruby, Jefferson, Mary-Margret, David and their son Leo all sat at one round table, not far from where she herself should be sitting, and then there were the ones she didn't. Their was more than enough family for Tink, apparently, parents with teary eyed smiles and her cousin Belle, who Emma had grown quite use to being around. Then there was all of Tink's friends, their supermodel skinny bodies looking amazing in the light green bridesmaid's dresses, their hair all done elegantly like they were headed to a red carpet. Tink wasn't even that famous, Emma thought, having only actually seen one of her TV shows about zombies before turning it off out of nothing more than petty spite. Or perhaps she was just being bitter over it all. But here she was, heart ready to break through her chest, speaking to each of these people and telling them all about her friendship with Killian.

It was very easy to feel self-conscious with all eyes on her, especially when most of them were calculating and judging, narrowed eyed across flutes of champagne and whispers just under her nose. But looking at Killian, the soft, encouraging smile on his face was enough for her to continue, to flit through her prompt cards and properly start her speech.

"Final word of warning," Emma said, after her lovely starting point speech about how this was the happiest day of her life. It had been total bullshit, but no one (par Ruby and possibly Mary-Margret) needed to know that. "Killian can hold his drink to an almost lethal degree, as I discovered on my 18th birthday when he decided a night of tequila slammers was the way to go," Everyone chuckled at that, and it made Emma feel equal parts warm that she was possibly earning their approval, and cold that she was sharing one her greatest memories with these people, memories she herself didn't fully have after such a night of drinking. "You know when someone tells you they were so drunk that the entire night was a blank and you say, 'No way, not possible'. Let me tell you, it's possible," There were more laughs and even Emma could feel herself smiling, remembering how Killian had come to the loft the following day, smiling at her like the cat who got the cream while she buried herself beneath the covers, resigning never to see the sun again.

She opened her mouth to speak again, to follow her little prompt cards and tell everyone about how she and Killian were forever in trouble at school, how they wound up Liam so much that he locked them outside of the bar, only letting them in after about five minutes in the rain. But she couldn't, not when Killian was looking at her like that, a softness to his face that she'd not seen since Liam's death. What she had to say would be hard, excruciatingly so, but it needed to not only be said, but heard. And so, folding her cue cards up and using them as something for her hands to hold onto, Emma spoke instead from her heart, however broken it was.

"Choosing a…" She began, but felt her throat close. Speaking so openly about her feelings was not something Emma had ever been good at. Even after Killian had nestled himself beneath her armour, she found it hard to speak out. It had been years now and she'd still not told him she loved him. But that changed today. "Choosing the person you want to spend the rest of your life with is one of the most important decisions any of us makes, ever." She began, smiling as she looked to David and Mary-Margret, hugging little six year old Leo tightly as David's hands rested on Mary-Margret's only slightly raised belly where baby number two was in the making. "Because when its wrong, it turns your life to grey. And sometimes – sometimes you don't even notice until you wake up one morning and realise years have gone by." She could stilled feel the ache of Neal's betrayal, the first and the last, settle in her gut, tugging at her confidence whenever she felt good about herself, threating to drag her back into the darkness of doubt that she'd spent so long crawling out of. "We both know about that one, Killian,"

He smiled sadly at that, the memories of Milah obviously not quite gone, of believing his future was right there, cooking quails eggs and asparagus in a pastry Emma was sure had been made up, only to have it torn away.

"Your friendship has brought glorious technicolour to my life." Emma said with a smile, feeling as her eyes began to prick. She couldn't help but remember her years before Killian at a time like this, of crying alone in her foster homes because she wanted her parents so bad, of sitting silently in closets, her hand over her mouth to stifle her breathing as thundering footfalls fell outside the door. There had been no one to protect her before she met Killian and Liam, she'd been lost in the darkness alone and afraid until they'd shined a light down on her and brought her out into the sun. She would be forever indebted to them for that. "It's been there, even in the darkest of times. And I am the luckiest person alive for that gift. I hope I didn't take it for granted," She said, thinking of lying to him about Henry, of how much easier it all could have been and how much hurt could have been avoided if she'd just told him. But he'd said it himself, he'd have never have gone to Boston if he'd known, and Emma was glad she didn't have that hanging over her, not when Henry was the perfect eleven year old, eyes full of hope and wonder. He'd never have the live the childhood they did.

"I think maybe I did," She said, a little self-depreciatingly as she thought of all the time she'd snapped at his kind words, of how she'd rejected his comfort and fallen instead into the arms of another. Those were things she could never take back, even if she wanted to. "Because sometimes you don't see that the best thing that's ever happened to you is just sitting there, right under your nose," Emma didn't have to move her eyes from Killian to know that Ruby and Mary-Margret were watching her pityingly. It was them who'd known all along how Emma had felt about Killian, and they were to ones who always told her to go for it, to take the plunge and allow herself to be happy. She'd never listened, and she hated herself for it every day.

"But that's fine too," She said, breaking her and Killian's eye contact to look instead at the pitiful glances and narrowed eyed stares of both her friend's and Tink's. "It really is. Because I've realised that no matter where you are," She said taking a deep breath and meeting Killian's gaze once more, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her with a longing she'd never know he could harbour. It hurt, she realised, to look at him as she said this, to know that her chance had passed ad their lives would continue to be separated. Two kindred spirits, set on different paths. "Or what you're doing, or who you're with, I will always honestly, completely, truly love you." She could feel her eyes watering then, tears threating to spill over her cheeks as his gaze stayed unwavering on her. The silence around them was almost deafening, Emma thought, hearing nothing but the thumping of her blood in her ears and the quiet fell from dramatic to awkward. People were sharing looks and even the bride looked irritated, but Emma didn't relent, not yet. Not until she knew that Killian understood, even if the others didn't. By the way she could see his jaw clenching, she had a feeling he did.

"Like a sister loves a brother, and a friend loves a friend." She continued and was sure the entire ballroom release a breath of relief. There needn't be any drama at this wedding, not when so much work had been put into it. "I know I'm not Liam," she said with a pang of guilt knowing that brining up Killian's brother was still a sore spot, especially on such a joyous day, but she felt this needed to be said. "And I know how crushing it is that he can't be here to say this, and I promise you, I'm not trying to take his place." Killian was looking at her with tears in his own eyes now, she saw, but no one seemed concerned. Liam had been Killian's only family, talk of him was enough to send him spiralling, and everyone knew it. "But know that I will always stand guard of your dreams, Killian. No matter how weird or twisted they get."

For the last words, Emma looked away from Killian, knowing that what she had to say was crushing enough without seeing his face. Instead, she looked to the crowd, the expectant faces of guests and family. She looked at the blue and green steamers on the walls, of the balloons on the table and the bright and flowery centre pieces. She looked anywhere but at him.

"So, please, everybody, join me in a toast," She said, raising her own glass with a bright, false smile on her face. This was the best day of her life, she'd said it herself. But a lie was only as strong as the liar was, and Emma was doing everything she could to play her part as Best woman. "To the bride and groom."

"To the bride and groom!" Everyone chorused and Emma felt her legs begin to wobble. She didn't sit down though, not when everyone else was getting ready to dance. Instead she slipped away to the side of the dancefloor, watching her friends from afar as her heart continued to crack.

Jefferson was dancing with Ruby, the two of them fumbling around the dancefloor like a pair of idiots as Mary-Margret danced with Leo, bending over to compensate for the height difference. Henry and Violet joined the mix too, but Emma was too busy watching Killian and Tink, his arms around her waist as her's circled his neck, her smile bright and beaming as she spoke softly to him. While everyone was occupied, Emma slipped from the room, pressing her back against the wall outside of the ballroom as she took very deep, not so calming breaths through her mouth, finally letting her eyes water while she was in solitude.

She managed perhaps a couple of minutes, maybe even seconds before Henry barrelled past her, his blazer abaonded and his tie loose around his neck, before diapearing around the corner.

"Henry?" She called, wiping her eyes as she pushed off of the wall.

"Henry just –" Killian said, stepping into the hallway with her.

"He just went through here," Emma said, pointing towards the black painted door, the words _'Fire Escape'_ written across it. If Killian noted Emma's red eyes and tear tracked cheeks, he didn't say, and she was grateful of that. "Henry?" She called as they stepped through the door, standing on the gravel covered roof that overlooked the bright lights of the city beyond. The view was enough to take Emma's breath away, that and how cold it was up there, the wind whipping strands of her hair and rising goose bumps on her bare shoulders and arms.

"Mum?" He called back and Emma saw him, sitting on a bench that had clearly be put up here for admiring the view, his hands clasped in his lap as he stared at the floor

"What are you doing out here?" Emma asked, crossing the distance between the door and the bench before lowering herself next to her son. Killian was only a step behind, choosing to stand on Henry's other side rather than sit down.

"I, um – I kissed Violet." He said shyly, wringing his hands in his lap. Emma could hardly say she was surprised, she'd seen how her son looked at the other girl, like she hung the stars herself. He was always trying to impress her and they'd known each other since they were in nursery together. In Emma's experience, it was hard to spend that much time with someone and have such a strong bond with them without falling in love. But then, Emma had never made the advances Henry had, and she couldn't help but envy her son's boldness in that moment. He may have his mother's stubbornness, but he certainly had the fight-for-what-you-want attitude of his father.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Emma asked, her arm around his shoulders despite her being the one that was cold.

"Of course it is!" Henry exclaimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Emma knew for certain that it as anything but obvious.

"Hey," Killian said, his hand landing on Henry's shoulder in the manly comforting way she noticed men often did. There was a softness about the way Killian did it, though, a comfort built on sympathy without a hint of pity. It was refreshing to say the lease. "Look, I was watching the two of you. You're good together," he said before he smiled at the younger boy. "And I don't mean to upset you, but you make quite the team." Even Emma had to smile at that remembering when Killian had said the same thing about the two of them after they'd managed to lock another foster child, one that had a habit of stealing any and all of Emma's belongings into the upstairs closet. Sure, they'd gotten into a whole world of trouble for it, but it had been worth it. And being grounded together didn't feel like being grounded at all. She and Killian had always been a team, even if she'd lost sight of that.

"Don't you get it?" Henry said, eye imploring with the adults of his life to understand. This wasn't a talk she could imagine Heny having with Neal, in fact, Henry rarely spoke to Neal if not for their contact weekends. He seemed just as hurt by Neal's adultery as Emma had and it had shown her that the one person she could always count on, the one who would always need her and never leave her was her son. She thanked her lucky stars every day that he'd been brought into the world, even as she cursed the rest of them for fucking everything else up. "She's my friend. It would be like you two kissing," Emma didn't miss the way Killian's jaw clenched at that, his eyes dodging hers as she looked at everything else. She made a note to ask him about that later. "I'll just tell her to forget the whole thing."

"Henry," Killian said, his grip on the younger boy's shoulder tightening slightly. "That would be a huge mistake." He'd perked Emma's interest, that was for sure. Henry also seemed to looking at his godfather curiously, his head tilting slightly like a confused puppy. It was adorable quirk that Emma was terrified he would grow out of. "If you really do care about her and you let her go, then she'd going to listen to you. She'll go out there and start a life of her own," He said, reelasing Henry's shoulder and seeming to step back slightly, scratching the back of his ear in a way Emma knew meant he was nervous. She didn't see why, though, and clearly, neither did Henry. "She'll meet another guy who you won't be able to stand and you'll feel obsolete in her life. Then – then you'l go out and make it your lives mission to go out there and meet the most perfect, beautiful girl in the world just to try and get over her." He paused then and swallowed past a lump in his throat, his yes wandering to Emma as he spoke.

"You'll end up marrying this girl and spending the rest of your life with her," He said, and for someone who'd only just become married that day, he sounded far from enthused about it. "You'll tell yourself that she's perfect and that you really must be happy, but she won't be her you know?" He said and Emma was sure she could hear regret in his voice and not one single word that left his lips was a lie, she knew it, she _felt it._ "You'll have missed your chance and your lives will pass each others by, like two ships in the night."

"But you two never actually kissed," Henry reasoned and Killian's silence to the question was deafening to Emma's ears, but Henry didn't seem to notice, tunring instead to his mother. "Did you?" He asked and Emma blanched slightly.

"Of course not," She said. That was something she knew she'd remember.

"Henry?" A voice called and Emma saw as the door to the hotel opened, Violet stepping out on the gravel in her pink occasion dress.

"Violet!" He replied, launching himself off of the bench to go and join her. "I'm really sorry," Emma heard him say, even acros the distance and smiled. "If you want we can pretend it never –" He was cut off as she pressed her lips quickly against his. The poor boy seemed speechless after that, his eyes wide and his breath held as he looked at the brunette girl before him.

"I don't want to pretend," Violet said with a gentle smile, her dark eyes glowing orange in the light of the city below them. "You left before could say anything.

They went inside then, Henry waving a quick good bye to his mother and godfather before accepting Violet's outstretched hand and following her inside with the promise of finishing then dance. It was sweet, Emma thought, just how quickly Henry was growing up. The only thing that spoilt the moment was the sielcne still wrapped around her and Killian, his wandering gaze over the city lights as she clenched and unclenched his jaw. Henry's queston had struck a nerve, it seemed, and Emma couldn't stand that her answer had apparently hit home too.

"Killian?" She said tentatively, watching as his eyes snapped back to her for a moment, whatever thought he'd been clinging to drifting away like a balloon on the breeze.

"I only realised, uh, tonight that you forgot." He said, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and worrying it slightly before releasing it with a sigh. "Your 18th birthday, about five tequila slammers in, I think," He said with a laugh, one Emma couldn't find herself joining in with, too caught up in what he was saying. "It was before you fell off the stool." That was the last thing that Emma had remembered of her birthday before waking up in the hospital, her stomach pumped and her head in agony. It seemed it was possible for Emma to forget kissing Killian Jones, and she was berating herself horribly for it in her head.

"That's why you took Tink to the dance." She said, the harshness of the truth slamming into her stomach like a punch. Of all the thing she had forgotten – song lyrics, doctor's appointments, her own birthday – she had forgotten Killian's kiss.

"And you went with Neal." Killian said, his hands falling into his pockets as she stared at him, her eyes watering once more, but she blamed it on the wind. They'd been so close, only seconds away from being everything Emma could have possibly dreamed of and her memory had gone and fucked it all up. Emma had hated herself for some pretty stupid things in her time, but this took the cake. The way Killian was looking at her then, blue eyes shimmering in the lights of the buildings, her dark suit barely a silhouette against the skyscrapers of the city beyond. She'd almost had this, she'd almost had all of it, and one stupid mistake had kept it just out of arms reach. It wasn't something Emma was sure she'd ever be over, at least, not in a hurry.

* * *

With the wedding over, the guests were getting ready to go home and the happily married couple were ready for their honeymoon in New York where Tink would be filming in between romantic moments. It churned Emma's stomach, especially now she knew just had close she had come. But now wasn't the time to think on it, now was the time to say goodbye to her best friend – the man she loved – as he embarked on his new journey with his new wife.

Ruby was saying good bye to Jefferson very openly, the two of then wrapped in one another's arms as they whispered god-knows-what to each other in the breath of space between them. Mary-Margret had said her goodbyes to the happy couple, as had David, even little Leo getting a hug from a rather solemn looking Killian before taking her mother's hand. They'd flown out the day before Emma and her group had, the two of them seeming to have way more spare time than Emma and Ruby did. Or perhaps they were just far more organised, Emma didn't really care.

"I'll see you soon, Lad," Killian said as Henry wrapped his arms around his waist, patting the small boy's hair as he hugged him back.

"Promise?" Henry asked, looking up at him without breaking the hug.

"I promise," He said with a soft, not too forced smile before Henry let him go, waving once to Tink before stepping back to where Violet stood, taking her hand in his immediately. Emma would marvel at the sight and maybe even take a picture of the adorable moment if it wasn't her turn to say goodbye.

"Well, bye then." Emma said, standing before Killian, tucking loose strands of hair from her ponytail behind her ear as she fought the urge to fidget under his gaze. It was such a sad look and it broke Emma's heart to see.

"Aye" Killian said with a nod, his hands clenching once into fists at his side before he reached for her, his arm snaking so perfectly around her waist. Emma only hesitated for a moment before letting her arms circle his neck, pulling him in closer as breathing him in like the ocean air. Strangely, the two scents were all that different. Being acutely away of Tink's watchful gaze, Emma resisted the urge to thread her fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull, choosing instead to release him from the embrace.

Stepping backwards, she shot Tink one quick, false smile before turning on her heel and beginning to walk. She didn't wait for her friends and family, knowing that they'd either find her or catch her up. Her steps were fast as her throat closed up, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. There was no point crying over something that couldn't be. Emma was far better off continuing with her life as Killian did with his own. Almost, in this instance, was just going to have to be enough.

* * *

A few weeks passed and Emma was following her advice and living her life. She'd done as promised and spent some of the money Liam had left her in his will towards getting her book published. It was ironic, really, that despite being a now published writer, Emma hadn't been able to find the words to describe her joy as she opened the first cardboard box stamped with her name and pulling away the paper to reveal the stacks of books, all with identical covers inside.

"Once Upon A Time," Henry said, looking over Emma's shoulder at the brown leather bound book in her hands, reading the golden embellished title aloud.

"You wanna see the best bit?" She said with a smile, looking as Ruby began pulling another book from the box, no doubt to marvel at her own art work inside. Following Henrys nod, Emma opened the book up, skipping the first blank page and landing instead on the dedication page.

"For Mary-Margret, for teaching me the true meaning of hope and happy endings," Henry read aloud and Emma smiled fondly, looking at the cursive font printed on the page, remembering every one of Mary-Margret's little pep talks over the years. "For David, who taught me that it _was_ for the likes of us." Emma had never let that go, even as her initial plans fell apart. "For Henry, who has never stopped believing in me," Henry seemed to sit up straight at that, clearly proud of the dedication Emma knew he'd earned. "For Ruby, who stuck by my side even as the road got bumpy. For Killian, who showed me what it meant to live your dreams," Henry said and Emma heard his voice catch at the beginning of the next sentence, and she didn't blame him, she'd felt her eyes burning simply writing it down. "And in loving memory of Liam Jones, the greatest brother anyone could ask for, a true hero and the guardian of our dreams. Thank you all, for being the family that I could only have dreamed of."

"Do you like it?" Emma asked, bumping her shoulder against his as he settled the book back down on their kitchen table, the room having become a jungle of obstacles, most of which being stacks of cardboard boxes filled with this exact book.

"I love it," He said with a beaming smile and Emma let her arm wrap around his shoulder, kissing the top of his head quickly. _This was it_ , she thought to herself, she was getting there at long last.

* * *

It was flurry from that moment on. Emma's book ' _Once Upon A Time'_ hit the shelves first in a few local bookshops, Emma's smile brightening when she spotted it in the window display on her walk to work. Then the demand grew. Her book had, by some miracle, become a hit. Emma's inbox was full of emails from fans, people asking about the characters and begging to know more. She was swamped with it all. Her phone was ringing, people asking if they could sell the book in their stores and before long Emma had even gotten herself an agent. Sure, it was Mary-Margret's step sister Regina, the same woman Emma had found the basis of the Evil Queen character for, but she didn't seem to mind and she was a decent agent, organising book talks and even a book signing in the centre of Bristol, in a hotel Emma had never even heard of.

"Your own book," Mary-Margret beamed as she stood with Emma in the back room of the hotel, waiting for Emma's entrance for the signing. It had all happened to fast, Emma thought, it was overwhelming to the point she wanted to run and hide, but she didn't. "We're so proud of you," She said, holding Emma's face gently in her own hands and Emma could feel herself smiling already, something, she noticed, she'd been doing much more recently, even if she hadn't heard from Killian in a while. Everything was working out and Emma was now living her dream, just as she'd promised Liam she would.

"Emma!" Ruby shouted, bounding into the room on her high red heels, her face alight with a smile brighter than the sun as she spotted her and Mary-Margret. As the illustrator for Emma's book, Ruby got to come along to these signings as well and had even suggested the idea of picking the favourite images in the book and making them into prints and canvases for people to have signed at these special events. Regina had lapped the idea up, of course, claiming that they'd have to be a special, limited edition thing and only used at the events to make them even more desired. So far, it was going down a dream. There were six prints in total, and Emma couldn't deny they were the best ones.

One was of Snow white and Prince Charming (influenced very much by Mary-Margret and David) standing in each other's arms at their wedding alter after hearing of the Evil Queen's threat. It was a nice one, Emma thought, iconic for the path of the plot. The next was of Little Red Riding Hood standing in the woods, her hood trailing across the ground like blood in the snow. As the illustrator, Ruby had had her pick of who to base the characters off of and she'd chosen Little Red Riding Hood to be be herself. It didn't look too bad, in Emma's opinion. There were others, one of the Evil Queen dressed in her bejewelled dressed and of the Mad Hatter (Jefferson, of course) slowing descending into madness, but Emma's personal favourite was from a story much later in the book.

The story of the Saviour and the pirate. Ruby hadn't allowed Emma to see this picture until it had been printed and before the publication of the book, The Saviour had remained both nameless and faceless. Ruby, however, had had different ideas. The print in question showed the Pirate and Saviour at a royal ball, disguised to the characters of the book as Prince Charles and Princes Leia, but to the reader, they showed their true selves. Emma already knew the pirate in disguise was Killian, him being the only pirate – besides BlackBeard – to even be in the story as the notorious, but misunderstood, Captain Hook a kind man who had tuned to piracy after the untimely death of his brother.

Emma should have known by Ruby's sly, wolfish smirk as she handed Emma the print that she would be the face of The Saviour, her blonde hair pinned into a beautifully elegant updo, her red ball gown a stunning contrast to her pale skin. It was a beautiful image, truly it was, but Emma couldn't help the loss she felt from looking at it, how The Saviour looked at the Pirate and how he looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his hundreds of years.

"Your fans await," Mary-Margret said with a proud smile and Emma found herself beaming in return. She barely had a second to fix her hair and flatten out the green dress Regina had insisted she wear before she was being urged out from behind the curtain, and out into the room beyond.

Hours passed and Emma felt as though her hand was ready to fall off. She barely even recognised her own signature anymore as her marker glided across the same page over and over again. Some fans would stop and talk to her, to tell them how her book had changed their lives or had given them hope. Emma even had one girl come up to her with a badge on her chest that said _'Long Live Regina'_. It was an interesting choice for a favourite character's but Emma would hardly begrudge the girl for her choice.

"You've only got one left, Emma," one of the book shop assistants said in her ear as the book was placed on the table before her. Emma didn't even look up as she spoke, instead, opening the book to the first blank page and getting her pen ready.

"And what's your name?" She asked, dredging up as much inner happiness as she could to give the fan the most real smile she could manage, her way to keep from simply telling them to make it quick. Her smile faltered when she caught the gaze of the man looking down at her, a smug little grin on his face as her eyes widened.

"Hi," Killian said, scratching his ear quickly and Emma realised she was still yet to even move, let alone speak.

"Hi," She breathed out instead. It was a shoddy reply, she knew, but her mind had gone pretty blank already. She'd not known that he had heard about her book signing, let alone that he would come to it, the copy of the book she had sent him clearly the one he's placed before her. It already had a signature in it in the form of a thank you note she'd written early in the writing process, telling him that he would finally get to be the pirate he'd dreamed of in this book.

"I figured I'd hang back and be the last one," He said and Emma felt her lips tilting up in a little smile of her own, one that only encouraged his to grow. "I didn't want to hold up a queue of angry fangirls," He said with a chuckle, but Emma was still too bemused by his presence before her, in thhis particular room, in Bristol – Not America.

"Smart," Emma praised, lifting her pen from where she'd dropped it and poising it once more over the paper. "So, to Killian and family, is it?" She asked not too subtly and Killian noticed this, of course he did. He'd been able to read her as clear as a book since the day they'd met, just a cautious six-year-old and a nerve racked seven-year-old. What a pair they'd been. Even Liam had said on occasion that they were a force to be reckoned with when they put their heads together. Emma couldn't help but wonder if that had changed.

"No." He said quickly, and Emma hoped her face didn't betray the flutter in her chest at his words. "No, it's just me now."

"Your wife?" Emma asked, and now subtly had simply gone out of the window with the rest of Emma's rational thought, leaving behind what could only be described as a giddy teenager. It was getting a little embarrassing, but she couldn't find it in her to stop. Especially when she saw Killian shaking his head.

"We – uh, we both knew it wasn't right." Emma's inner teenager was currently squealing like an excited pig into a pillow and honestly, she was fighting a serious urge to do the same. Luckily, she managed to keep her poker face on, only smiling slightly when he smiled at her.

"Since I've got the time, I can get you a double signed illustration as well, instead of just Ruby's signature?" Emma said, trying to keep the hard-to-get thing running as long as she could. She wasn't sure why, maybe so that she could determine this wasn't just some really weird dream she was having that she was going to wake up from. It was, after all, seeming far too good to be true. But perhaps that was just Emma's past speaking for her, a lifetime of disappointment and hidden tears berating her for having even a slither of hope.

"An illustration it is," He says with a smile, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans as he stands still before her.

"One signed illustration for Killian Jones," She said, looking over to Ruby's table next to her own and the very empty looking pile of pictures. "Ruby, would you mind showing our last attendee the illustrations we have left?" Emma could already tell by the wicked smile playing at the girls scarlet lips what the answer is going to be.

"Sorry, Chief. But I'm really busy right now," Emma knew full well she wasn't, judging by the fact she was sat in her chair, feet propped on the mostly empty table, twirling her pen between her fingers. Taxing work, Emma didn't doubt, but she also didn't argue.

"Well, if you'll follow me into the back room I can show you the ones we have," Emma said, rising from her chair and straightening her dress out once more, sitting down for hours having done the floaty fabric few favours.

"I had a quick look before I came out," He said and Emma just _knew_ it was Mary-Margret that let him have a snoop around, not that she minded, but the other woman can be awfully devious when she wants to be. It was half the reason Emma chose to right the character of Snow White as a bandit and not the shy, terrified bird whisper she'd originally been known as. That and Emma had always found that side of Snow White incredibly dull. A bandit was way more interesting. "I think I know which one like best."

"Let me guess," Emma said, pulling back the black curtain and stepping through, looking over her shoulder as he followed behind "The one of Captain Hook aboard his ship?" She asked and he smiled back at her, shaking his head no. "No, I know! The one of The Evil Queen. I think Ruby went overboard with the diamonds and cleavage, personally but what do I –"

"No," He said, cutting her off quite effectively when they reached the space in the back room designated for spare books and Ruby's illustrations. She started slightly at the snapping tone, but he amended himself quickly and the moment was gone. "No – uh," He bumbled and Emma felt the grin on her face already as he scratched the back of his neck. "It was the one of Prince Charles and Princess Leia – The Saviour and The Pirate – dancing together out of their time."

"That one was awfully popular," Emma said, far more breathlessly than she would dare admit. She wasn't lying, of course, it had been an incredibly popular image, but Emma knew for a fact that it was the one Ruby had printed the most of, and she also knew that was not a coincidence. "We might be all out."

"Is that so?" He asked, rising his eyebrow in the sinful way Emma hadn't seen him do in a while. That coupled with the smirk on his lips and the new found knowledge that he and Tink were no longer a thing had her ready to fall right into his arms. She didn't, for the sake of her dignity, if nothing else. "Well, I suppose a dance with the Princess herself would do nicely."

"I've heard she's rather picky about who she dances with." Emma said, rejoicing in the chuckle she heard escape Killan's mouth.

"Well, perhaps I can be deemed worthy. Maybe if I take her in my arms – in a manly way," He added and Emma felt herself laughing until his arms came around her waist, holding her tightly, his hands rested at the small of her back. "Like this," He said and Emma's arms were already around his neck. She'd spent far too long waiting for this moment to arrive, dealing with rejections and heartbreak, missed opportunities and other women; she'd be damned if she let him slip away again. "And I'd ask her to dance with me, the way I should have years ago." Emma knew what he meant, their end of school dance, the pivotal moment that had set them both on very different paths, the one that had changed everything between the both of them.

"Please," Emma said, her nose brushing against his gently, a smile gracing her lips as he swayed slightly, the two of them embracing like a pair of teenagers living off of stolen moments away from prying eyes. "You couldn't handle it." She said. She felt Killian's laugh before she heard it, the rumble of it vibrating though his chest pressed lightly against her own.

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," He said, clicking his 'T' with a very challenging tone, his smile just as wicked as he gazed down at her in his arms. It was a smug look that Emma was more happy to wipe right off of his face. And she did just that.

Slipping her hands from around his neck, she grasped at the collar of his leather jacket before tugging him towards her, their mouths colliding like two stars destined to crash. It was explosive, like thousands of tiny bundles of dynamite were detonating against her skin, setting her nerve endings alight. Goose bumps raised where his fingers trailed up her arms with a feather-light pressure, one of his hands moving to cup her chin, tilting her head to just the right angle. _This,_ Emma thought, sighing slightly in relief, something she felt Killian smiling to against her lips. _This is what I've been waiting for._

And for once in Emma Swan' life, 'Almost' was the word furthest away from her mind.

* * *

 **That is guys, it really is. It's been one hell of a ride.**

 **Thank you again for following this story, commenting and even those of you who PM'ed me about it. All of those are still very welcome of course and I hope to see your names popping up on some of my other CS stories. (TWD XOVER coming soon, CaptainSwan Enchanted Forest AU, cute little one-shots etc.)**

 **The 8tracks playlist for this story will be up soon too, under the same name as the story and my profile is the same as this one too.**

 **Until next time.**


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